It was Amy, who had come at Cameron's request.
The sufferer half rose in her bed. "Who is it?" she gasped. "I—I—know that voice."
"There, there, dearie," returned the nurse, gently pushing her back on the pillows. "There, there, lie down again; it's only Miss Amy."
"Yes, come in," she called; and Miss Goodrich softly pushed open the door and entered.
"I thought perhaps I could help you, Mother Gray," she said, as she removed her hat and arranged a beautiful bunch of flowers on a little stand in the center of the room. Then turning to the sufferer, she was about to speak again when she paused and her face grew as white as the colorless face upon the pillow.
The wide eyes of the dying girl stared back at her in doubting wonder, while the trembling lips tried to whisper her name.
The next instant, Amy had thrown herself on her knees, her arms about the wasted form upon the bed. "Oh Kate; Kate;" she cried. "How did this happen? How came you here?"
It was Kate Cushman, from Oak Springs Farm.
Mother Gray quickly recovered from her surprise, and with the instinct of a true nurse, calmed Amy and soothed the patient.
"There, there, my dears," she said. "God is good—God is good. Let us thank Him that He has brought you together. You must be brave and strong, Miss Amy. This poor dear needs our help. Yes, yes, dear, be brave and strong."