Dr. Pagenheim blew out his cheeks as if a pipe might have been a consolation to him. "Soh! You--you cannot be his mother--you--you are his sister, doubtless?"
Helen, behind her handkerchief, shook her head. "I--I am a nurse," she said faintly, "and I have come on purpose----"
"But, gnädige Fraulein," interposed the great man, becoming professional, "he is already nursed, nursed devotedly. There is no place for you I fear. It is against the rules. If you were a relation it were different."
Helen looked up at him, goaded to desperation.
"But--but I am more than that, Dr. Pagenheim," she said. "I--I am engaged to be married to him."
The blond, florid face melted into instant sentiment, the tongue into German.
"Soh! Oh Love! Love! What dost thou not? So he is betrothed and we knew it not? Stay! is your name Helen?"
"Yes. Helen Tressilian," she replied.
"Liebes Kind!" cried the great professsor. "He has in his delirium called for you by name. Dry your tears, we will mend him for you surely. Helen! Ach! that is an all-powerful, love-compelling name-of-uttermost victory, so have no fear. You shall to him go so soon as I can get on my boots." He stuck out a big slippered foot in explanation and encouragement as he beamed on her.
"If I might have a glass of milk," Helen felt emboldened to say. "I haven't had time, somehow----"