Four weeks afterward, we will introduce the reader into the bedchamber of Colonel Preston. His sickness has been severe. At times recovery was doubtful, but Mrs. Burke has proved a careful and devoted nurse, intelligent and faithful enough to carry out the directions of the physician.  
"How do you feel this morning, Colonel Preston?" asked the doctor, who had just entered the chamber.
 
"Better, doctor. I feel quite an appetite."
 
"You are looking better—decidedly better. The disease has spent its force, and retreated from the field."
 
"It is to you that the credit belongs, Dr. Townley."
 
"Only in part. The greater share belongs to your faithful nurse, Mrs. Burke."
 
"I shall not soon forget my obligations to her," said the sick man, significantly.
 
"Now, Colonel Preston," said Mrs. Burke, "you are making too much of what little I have done."
 
"That is impossible, Mrs. Burke. It is to your good nursing and the doctor's skill that I owe my life, and I hardly know to which the most."
 
"To the doctor, sir. I only followed out his directions."
 
"At the expense of your own health. You show the effects of your long-continued care."
 
"It won't take long to pick up," said Mrs. Burke, cheerfully.
 
"Is the danger of contagion over, doctor?" asked the patient.
 
"Quite so."
 
"Then, would it not be well to write to Mrs. Preston? Not that I mean to give up my good nurse just yet; that is, if she is willing to stay."
 
"I will stay as long as you need me, sir."
 
"That is well; but Mrs. Preston may wish to return, now that there's no further danger."
 
"I will write to her at once."
 
"Thank you."
 
The following letter was dispatched to Mrs. Preston:
 
    "MRS. PRESTON:—
    "Dear Madam: It gives me great pleasure to inform you that
    your husband is so far recovered that there is no danger now
    of infection. You can return with safety, and he will,
    doubtless, be glad to see you. He has been very ill,
    indeed—in danger of his life; but, thanks to the devotion of
    Mrs. Burke, who has proved an admirable nurse, he is now on
    the high road to recovery. Yours respectfully,
                                       "John Townley."
"I think that will bring her," said the doctor.
 
But he reckoned without his host.
 
The next day he received the following letter, on scented paper:
 
    "MY DEAR DOCTOR TOWNLEY: You cannot think how rejoiced I am
    to receive the tidings of my husband's convalescence. I have
    been so tortured with anxiety during the last four weeks! You
    cannot think how wretchedly anxious I have been. I could not
    have endured to stay away from his bedside but that my duty
    imperatively required it. I have lost flesh, and my anxiety
    has worn upon me. Now, how gladly will I resume my place at
    the bedside of my husband, restored by your skill. I am glad
    the nurse has proved faithful. It was a good chance for her,
    for she shall be liberally paid, and no doubt the money will
    be welcome. But don't you think it might be more prudent for
    me to defer my return until next week? It will be safer, I
    think, and I owe it to my boy to be very careful. You know,
    the contagion may still exist. It is hard for me to remain
    longer away, when I would fain fly to the bedside of Mr.
    Preston, but I feel that it is best. Say to him, with my
    love, that he may expect me next week. Accept my thanks for
    your attention to him. I shall never forget it; and believe
    me to be, my dear doctor, your obliged
                                       "Lucinda Preston."
Dr. Townley threw down this letter with deep dis............