"No, I do not need help—I shall be better in a moment. But I agitate you, and I will go away until I have stopped coughing."
Which would be, Carlton Brand thought, perhaps a few moments before she went into that holy presence from which the most betrayed and down-trodden may not be debarred! Ever weakly-loving—ever thoughtless of her own welfare and childishly subservient to the good of others—lacking self-assertion, but never wantonly sinful,—had not that strange thinker, yet under the influence of the fever of his wound, some right to remember Mary's tears, and the blessing to the "poor in heart," promised in the Sermon on the Mount?
But there was real danger to the invalid in this agitation, and the will of another stepped in to remove the danger. Before the poor girl had quite ceased coughing, one of the physicians of the hospital, a gray-haired, benevolent-looking man, stood by the bedside and touched her upon the shoulder.
"Coughing again, and so terribly! What, blood? Fie, fie!—this will never do!" he said. "If the sick nurse the sick, both fare badly, you know. If the scripture doesn't say so, it ought to. You must go away to Mrs. Waldron, Nellie, and keep quiet and not stir out again to-day."
"Yes, Doctor," she answered, rising obediently. "Good-night, Carlton!" She stooped and pressed her lips to the thin hand so touchingly that the doctor, who could scarcely even guess the past relation between the two, almost felt the tears rising as he looked.
"Good-night, and God bless you, Eleanor."
The doctor's eyes followed her as with slow, weak steps she passed out of the room, her pale, mournful face with its hectic cheeks and sad eyes looking back to the bed for an instant as she disappeared. Then he turned away with a sigh—such a sigh of helpless sorrow as he had no doubt often heaved over the living illustrations of those two heart-breaking words—"fading away."
"I am sorry she was here," he said, when she had gone. "I am afraid that she has used up strength that you needed. There are visitors to see you."
"To see me?"
"Yes—now keep as cool as possible, or I will send them away again. I hate mysteries and surprises; but poor Eleanor does not, and she sent for them, I believe."