For many days after that interview in Regent’s Park, it seemed that one of the three, who made the little house in Kentish Town so truly like heaven, was to be an angel indeed.  Harold’s supposed cold had turned to scarlet fever, and the doctor feared that Harold would die.

Immediately after her interview with Charlotte Harman, Mrs. Home went upstairs to learn from the grave lips of the medical man what ailed her boy, and what a hard fight for life or death he had before him.  She was a brave woman, and whatever anguish might lie underneath, no tears filled her eyes as she looked at his flushed face.  When the doctor had gone, she stole softly from the sick-room, and going to the drawing-room where Hinton was already in possession, she tapped at the door.

To his “Come in,” she entered at once, and said abruptly without preface, ­

“I hope you have unpacked nothing.  I must ask you to go away at once.”

She had her bonnet still on, and, but for the pallor of her face, she looked cold, even unmoved.

“I have everything unpacked, and I don’t want to go.  Why should I?” demanded Hinton, in some surprise.

“My eldest boy has scarlet fever.  The other two will probably take it.  You must on no account stay here; you must leave to-night if you wish to escape infection.”

In an instant Hinton was by her side.

“Your boy has scarlet fever?” he repeated.  “I know something of scarlet fever.  He must instantly be moved to an airy bedroom.  The best bedroom in the house is mine.  Your boy must sleep in my bedroom to-night.”

“It is a good thought,” said Mrs. Home.  “Thank you for suggesting it ­I will move him down at once; the bed is well aired, and the sheets are fresh and clean.  I will have him moved whenever you can go.”

She was leaving the room when Hinton followed her.

“I said nothing about going.  I don’t mean to.  I can have a blanket and sleep on the sofa.  I am not going away, Mrs. Home.”

“Mr. Hinton, have you no one you care for?  Why do you run this risk.”

“I have some one I care for very much indeed; but I run no risk.  I had scarlet fever long ago.  In any case I have no fear of infection.  Now I know your husband is out; let me go upstairs and help you bring down the little fellow.”

“God bless you,” said the wife and mother.  Her eyes were beautiful as she raised them to the face of this good Samaritan.

The little patient was moved to the large and comfortable room, and Hinton found himself in the position of good angel to this poor family.  He had never supposed himself capable of taking such a post with regard to any one; but the thing seemed thrust upon him.  An obvious duty had come into his life, and he never even for the briefest instant dreamed of shirking it.  He was a man without physical fear.  The hardships of life, the roughing of poverty were not worth a passing thought of annoyance; but there was one little act of self-denial which he must now exercise; and it is to be owned that he felt it with a heart-pang.  He had never told Charlotte that he was going to live in the house with Mrs. Home.  He had not meant to keep this fact a secret from her, but there was still a soreness over him when he thought of this young woman which prevented her name coming readily to his lips.  On this first night in his new abode he sat down to write to his promised wife; but neither now did he give his address, nor tell his landlady’s name.  He had an obvious reason, however, now for his conduct.

This was what Charlotte received from her lover on the following morning, ­

“MY DARLING, ­Such a strange thing has happened; but one which, thank God, as far as I am concerned, need not cause you the least alarm.  I moved from my old lodgings to-day and went a little further into the country.  I had just unpacked my belongings and was expecting some tea, for I was hot and thirsty, when my landlady came in and told me that her eldest child is taken very ill with scarlet fever.  She has other children, and fears the infection will spread.  She is a very poor woman, but is one of those who in their bearing and manner, you, Charlotte, would call noble.  She wanted me to leave at once, but this, Charlotte, I could not do.  I am staying here, and will give her what little help lies in my power.  You know there is no fear for me, for I had the complaint long ago.  But, dearest, there is just one thing that is hard.  Until this little child is better, I must not see you.  You have not had this fever, Charlotte, and for you, for my own sake, and your father’s sake, I must run no risk.  I will write to you every day, or as much oftener as you wish, for I can disinfect my paper; but I will not go to Prince’s Gate at present.”

     “Ever, my own true love,
     “Yours most faithfully,
     “John Hinton.”

This letter was posted that very night, but Hinton did not put his new address on it; he meant Charlotte now for prudential reasons to write to his chambers.  He returned to his lodgings, and for many weary and anxious nights to come shared their watch with Mr. and Mrs. Home.  So quietly, so absolutely had this young man stepped into his office, that the father and mother did not think of refusing his services.  He was a good nurse, as truly tender-hearted and brave men almost always are.  The sick child liked his touch.  The knowledge of his presence was pleasant.  When nothing else soothed him, he would lie quiet if Hinton held his little hot hand in his.

One evening, opening his bright feverish eyes, he fixed them full on Hinton’s face and said slowly and earnestly, ­

“I did kiss that pretty lady.”

“He means a lady whom he met in the Park; a Miss Harman, who came here and brought him toys,” explained Mrs. Home.

“Yes, isn’t she a pretty lady?” repeated little Harold.

“Very pretty,” answered Hinton, bending low over him.

The child smiled.  It was a link between them.  He again stole his hand into that of the young man.  But as days wore on and the fever did not abate, the little life in that small frame began to grow feeble.  From being an impossibility, it grew to be probable, then almost certain, that the little lad must die.  Neither father nor mother seemed alive to the coming danger; but Hinton, loving less than they did, was not blinded.  He had seen scarlet fever before, he knew something of its treatment; he doubted the proper course having ever been pursued here.  One evening he followed the doctor from the sick-room.

“The child is very ill,” he said.

“The child is so ill,” answered the medical man, “that humanly speaking there is very little hope of his life.”

“Good sir!” exclaimed Hinton, shocked at his fears being put into such plain language.  “Don’t you see that those parents’ lives are bound up in the child’s, and they know nothing?  Why have you told them nothing?  Only to-night his mother thought him better.”

“The fever is nearly over, and in consequence the real danger beginning; but I dare not tell the mother, she would break down.  The father is of different stuff, he would bear it.  But there is time enough for the mother to know when all is over.”

“I call that cruel.  Why don’t you get in other advice?”

“My dear sir, they are very poor people.  Think of the expense, and it would be of no use, no use whatever.”

“Leave the expense to me, and also the chance of its doing any good.  I should never have an easy moment if I let that little lad die without having done all in my power.  Two heads are better than one.  Do you object to consulting with Dr. H ?”

“By no means, Mr. Hinton.  He is a noted authority on such cases.”

“Then be here in an hour from now, doctor, and you shall meet him.”

Away flew Hinton, and within the specified time the great authority on such cases was standing by little Harold’s bedside.

“The fever is over, but the child is sinking from exhaustion.  Give him a glass of champagne instantly,” were the first directions given by the great man.

Hinton returned with a bottle of the best his money could purchase in ten minutes.

A tablespoonful was given to the child.  He opened his eyes and seemed revived.

“Ah! that is good.  I will stay with the little fellow to-night,” said Dr. H .  “You, madam,” he added, looking at Mrs. Home, “are to go to bed.  On no other condition do I stay.”

Hinton and Dr. H ­ shared that night’s watch between them, and in the morning the little life was pronounced safe.