"You were never easy for a moment," she concluded, "unless your brother was with you."
"And he——?"
"It gave him real comfort to wait on you, poor gentleman!"
"Thank you," said Mark. "Good night, nurse!"
Next morning he asked for a mirror, exclaiming, when he saw his face: "What a scarecrow!" Later, he begged the doctor to allow him to send for a barber. For some years he had worn a beard, which, however closely clipped, had greatly altered him. When the man came, Mark ordered him to shave all hair from his face. This done, he called again for the mirror.
"Do you see much change?" he asked the nurse.
"I hardly recognise you."
"Others will r-recognise me," he said.
With his back to the light he looked the Mark who had ascended the pulpit at King's Charteris. His face was thin, pale, and hollow-cheeked. The fever had taken from him the flesh and colour which life in the open air had given him. Presently David Ross called and was admitted.
"Mark!"