* * * * * *
It was night, dark night at Grassy Spring, and the summer
rain, which all the day had fallen in heavy showers, beat drearily
against the windows of the room where a fair young girl was
keeping watch over the white-faced man whose life was fast ebbing
away. They were alone,--Dr. Griswold and Nina--for both would have
it so. He, because he felt how infinitely precious to him would be
his last few hours with her, when there was no curious ear to
listen; and she, because she would have Miggie sleep. Nina knew no
languor from wakefulness. She was accustomed to it, and as if
imbued with supernatural strength, she had sat night after night
in that close room, ministering to the sick man as no one else
could have done, and by her faithfulness and tender care repaying
him in part for the love which for long, weary years had known no
change, and which, as life draw near its close, manifested itself
in a desire to have her constantly at his side, where he could
look into her eyes, and hear the murmurings of her bird-like
voice.
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