"Very much; but you are better now. Here is Jinny, your old nurse, who took care of you as a child."
The old colored woman came in, and, as instructed, said: "Yes, honey,
I'se tooken care ob you since you was a baby, and I'se nebber lef' you."
"Everything looks very strange. Why, Alford, I had a long, sad talk with you but a short time since in the library, and you were so kind and unselfish!"
"Yes, Grace; we spoke frankly to each other, but you have been very ill since then, worse than ever before. At your father's request and Dr. Markham's urgent counsel, I brought you to Europe. It was said to be your only chance."
"But where is Mrs. Mayburn?"
"She is at home taking care of your father. Her old sickness threatened to return. She could take care of you no longer, and you needed constant care."
A slow, deep flush overspread her face and even her neck as she faltered: "And—and—has no one else been with me but Jinny?"
"No one else except myself. Grace, dear Grace, I am your husband. I was married to you in the presence of your father, Mrs. Mayburn, and your family physician."
"Now long since?" she asked, in a constrained voice.
"About a year ago."