'Yes! my dear mother,' replied Ferdinand, musingly. Then in a quicker tone, 'Does she know of my illness? Did you write to them?'

'She knows of it.'

'She will be coming, then. I dread her coming. I can bear to see no one.

You, dear Glas...o...b..ry, you; it is a consolation to see you, because you have seen,' and here his voice faltered, 'you have seen--her.'

'My Ferdinand, think only of your health; and happiness, believe me, will yet be yours.'

'If you could only find out where she is,' continued Ferdinand, 'and go to her. Yes! my dear Glas...o...b..ry, good, dear, Glas...o...b..ry, go to her,'

he added in an imploring tone; 'she would believe you; everyone believes you. I cannot go; I am powerless; and if I went, alas! she would not believe me.'

'It is my wish to do everything you desire,' said Glas...o...b..ry, 'I should be content to be ever labouring for your happiness. But I can do nothing unless you are calm.'

'I am calm; I will be calm; I will act entirely as you wish; only I beseech you see her.'

'On that head let us at present say no more,' replied Glas...o...b..ry, who feared that excitement might lead to relapse; yet anxious to soothe him, he added, 'Trust in my humble services ever, and in the bounty of a merciful Providence.'

'I have had frightful dreams,' said Ferdinand. 'I thought I was in a farm-house; everything was so clear, so vivid. Night after night she seemed to me sitting on this bed. I touched her; her hand was in mine; it was so burning hot! Once, oh! once, once I thought she had forgiven me!'

'Hush! hush! hush!'

'No more: we will speak of her no more. When comes my mother?'

'You may see her to-morrow, or the day after.'

'Ah! Glas...o...b..ry, she is here.'

'She is.'

'Is she alone?'

'Your father is with her.'

'My mother and my father. It is well.' Then, after a minute's pause, he added with some earnestness, 'Do not deceive me, Glas...o...b..ry; see what deceit has brought me to. Are you sure that they are quite alone?'

'There are none here but your dearest friends; none whose presence should give you the slightest care.'

'There is one,' said Ferdinand.

'Dear Ferdinand, let me now leave you, or sit by your side in silence.

To-morrow you will see your mother.'

'To-morrow! Ah! to-morrow. Once to me tomorrow was brighter even than to-day.' He turned his back and spoke no more. Glas...o...b..ry glided out of the room.

CHAPTER XII.

_Containing the Intimation of a Somewhat Mysterious Adventure_.

IT WAS absolutely necessary that Lady Armine's interview with her son be confined merely to observations about his health. Any allusion to the past might not only produce a relapse of his fever, but occasion explanations, at all times most painful, but at the present full of difficulty and danger. It was therefore with feelings of no common anxiety that Glas...o...b..ry prepared the mother for this first visit to her son, and impressed upon her the absolute necessity of not making any allusion at present to Miss Grandison, and especially to her presence in the house. He even made for this purpose a sort of half-confidant of the physician, who, in truth, had heard enough during the fever to excite his suspicions; but this is a cla.s.s of men essentially discreet, and it is well, for few are the family secrets ultimately concealed from them.

The interview occurred without any disagreeable results. The next day, Ferdinand saw his father for a few minutes. In a short time, Lady Armine was established as nurse to her son; Sir Ratcliffe, easy in mind, amused himself with his sports; and Glas...o...b..ry devoted himself to Miss Grandison. The intimacy, indeed, between the tutor of Ferdinand and his intended bride became daily more complete, and Glas...o...b..ry was almost her inseparable companion. She found him a very interesting one. He was the most agreeable guide amid all the haunts of Armine and its neighbourhood, and drove her delightfully in Lady Armine's pony phaeton.

He could share, too, all her pursuits, and open to her many new ones.

Though time had stolen something of its force from the voice of Adrian Glas...o...b..ry, it still was wondrous sweet; his musical accomplishments were complete; and he could guide the pencil or prepare the herbal, and indite fair stanzas in his fine Italian handwriting in a lady's alb.u.m.

All his collections, too, were at Miss Grandison's service. She handled with rising curiosity his medals, copied his choice drawings, and even began to study heraldry. His interesting conversation, his mild and benignant manners, his captivating simplicity, and the elegant purity of his mind, secured her confidence and won her heart. She loved him as a father, and he soon exercised over her an influence almost irresistible.

Every morning as soon as he awoke, every evening before he composed himself again for the night's repose, Ferdinand sent for Glas...o...b..ry, and always saw him alone. At first he requested his mother to leave the room, but Lady Armine, who attributed these regular visits to a spiritual cause, scarcely needed the expression of this desire. His first questions to Glas...o...b..ry were ever the same. 'Had he heard anything? Were there any letters? He thought there might be a letter, was he sure? Had he sent to Bath; to London, for his letters?' When he was answered in the negative, he usually dwelt no more upon the subject.

One morning he said to Glas...o...b..ry, 'I know Katherine is in the house.'

'Miss Grandison _is_ here,' replied Glas...o...b..ry.

'Why don't they mention her? Is all known?'

'Nothing is known,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

'Why don't they mention her, then? Are you sure all is not known?'

'At my suggestion, her name has not been mentioned. I was unaware how you might receive the intelligence; but the true cause of my suggestion is still a secret.'

'I must see her,' said Ferdinand, 'I must speak to her.'

'You can see her when you please,' replied Glas...o...b..ry; 'but I would not speak upon the great subject at present.'

'But she is existing all this time under a delusion. Every day makes my conduct to her more infamous.'

'Miss Grandison is a wise and most admirable young lady,' said Glas...o...b..ry. 'I love her from the bottom of my heart; I would recommend no conduct that could injure her, a.s.suredly none that can disgrace you.'

'Dear Glas...o...b..ry, what shall I do?'

'Be silent; the time will come when you may speak. At present, however anxious she may be to see you, there are plausible reasons for your not meeting. Be patient, my Ferdinand.'

'Good Glas...o...b..ry, good, dear Glas...o...b..ry, I am too quick and fretful.

Pardon me, dear friend. You know not what I feel. Thank G.o.d, you do not; but my heart is broken.'

When Glas...o...b..ry returned to the library, he found Sir Ratcliffe playing with his dogs, and Miss Grandison copying a drawing.

'How is Ferdinand?' enquired the father.

'He mends daily,' replied Glas...o...b..ry. 'If only May-day were at hand instead of Christmas, he would soon be himself again; but I dread the winter.'

'And yet the sun shines.' said Miss Grandison.

Glas...o...b..ry went to the window and looked at the sky. 'I think, my dear lady, we might almost venture upon our promised excursion to the Abbey today. Such a day as this may not quickly be repeated. We might take our sketch-book.'

'It would be delightful,' said Miss Grandison; 'but before I go, I must pick some flowers for Ferdinand.' So saying, she sprang from her seat, and ran out into the garden.

'Kate is a sweet creature,' said Sir Ratcliffe to Glas...o...b..ry. 'Ah!