Said the physician,--incredulous,--"You say there is no change ?" "None that I can detect," breathed the nurse.

"It is wonderful!" "Her mind is clear ?" "As though she were in perfect health." The doctor took the nurse's chart.

For a moment, he studied it in silence.
He gave it back with a gesture of amazement.

"God! nurse," he whispered, "she should be in her grave by now! It's a miracle! But she has always been like that--" he continued, half to himself, looking with troubled admiration toward the bed at the other end of the room--"always." He went slowly forward to the chair that the nurse placed for him.

Seating himself quietly beside his patient, and bending forward with intense interest, his fine old head bowed, he regarded with more than professional care the wasted face upon the pillow.
The doctor remembered, too well, when those finely moulded features--now, so worn by sorrow, so marked by sickness, so ghastly in the hue of death--were rounded with young-woman health and tinted with rare loveliness.