He had really loved her, then; set himself manfully to die at his post, that he might forget her in a better world.

How shamefully she had trifled with that noble heart! How should she ever meet--how have courage to look him in the face?
And not love, or anything like love, but sacred pity and self-abasement filled her heart, as his fair, delicate face rose up before her, all wan and shrunken, with sad upbraiding eyes; and round it such a halo, pure and pale, as crowns, in some old German picture, a martyr's head.
"He has had the cholera! he has been actually dying ?" asked she at last, with that strange wish to hear over again bad news, which one knows too well already.
"Of course he has.

Why, you are not going away, Valencia?
You need not be afraid of infection.

Campbell, and Thurnall, too, says that's all nonsense; and they must know, having seen it so often.

Here comes Bowie at last with supper!" "Has Mr.Headley had anything to eat ?" asked Valencia, who longed to run away to her own room, but dared not.
"He is eating now like any ged, ma'am; and Major Campbell's making him eat too." "He must be very ill," thought she, "for mon Saint Pere never to have come near us yet:" and then she thought with terror that her Saint Pere might have guessed the truth, and be angry with her.