"Lavers—Mrs. Lavers."
Michael gave a groan.
"What is the matter?" asked the nurse, turning to look at him; "have you the pain again?"
"No," he muttered, "not that sort of pain; but I wish she had not done it."
"Why, you ungrateful man!" exclaimed the nurse.
Michael made no reply. A hot flush of shame was dyeing his cheeks, and mounting to his forehead. The nurse observed it with some anxiety. She took his hand to feel his pulse. Was the fever about to return?
[CHAPTER VIII]
THE BURDEN MAKES ITSELF FELT
"MR. BETTS," said the nurse, three days later, as she came into the room, "that lady is downstairs, and she wants to know if you would like to see her."
"What lady?" asked Michael, though he thought he knew.