That _but_, and the way in which he finished his sentence, spoke volumes. An invalid in a dangerous state expressing a wish to see some one in particular! It was like the cold chill of death itself seeming near.

"You may go in, Harley," said the doctor. "My wife and Miss Stuart are there."

The Resident hesitated for a moment. Then drawing a long breath, he walked through the drawing-room, and into Helen's bedroom, seeing nothing but the thin swarthy face upon the white pillow, about which was tossed her abundant hair.

Mrs Bolter rose as he entered, and taking Grey Stuart's hand, they softly moved towards the door, and left the room without a word.

For a few moments Neil Harley stood there, gazing down at the wasted face before him, his very soul looking out, as it were, from his eyes, in the intensity of his misery and despair; while Helen gazed up at him now with a saddened and resigned expression of countenance, the vanity all pa.s.sed away and the dread that he should see her, disfigured as she was, a something of the past.

"I sent for you to ask you to forgive me," she said, in a low, faint voice; but he did not speak.

"I know now how weak--how vain I was--how cruel to you; but--you know-- my folly, you will forgive?"

He was down upon his knees by her bedside now, and the words seemed to be literally torn from his heart as he groaned:

"Helen!--Helen! my poor girl! has it come to this?"

"Yes!" she said, softly, "it seems like rest! I am happier now; but I thought--I should like to see you again--to say Good-bye!"

"No, no, no!" he cried, pa.s.sionately. "You shall not leave me, Helen!

My love--my darling--you shall not die!" She smiled faintly.

"I knew you loved me differently from the rest!" she said, softly, as he clasped her thin hand and held it to his lips; "that is why I sent. You said I should send for you--some day."

"To ask me to take you for my wife," he panted; "and, Helen, the time has come!"

"Yes," she said, softly, "but it was the Helen of the past; not this wreck--this--this--Oh, Heaven!" she moaned, pa.s.sionately, "did I sin so vilely that you should punish me like this?"

"Hush! hush!" he whispered, pa.s.sing his arm beneath her light, too fragile form, and raising her till her head rested upon his breast.

"That is all past now, and it is not the Helen of the past I love, but she who has sent for me at last. Helen, darling, speak to me again!"

"Speak?" she said, faintly; "what should I say, but ask you to forgive me, and say good-bye?"

"Good-bye?" he cried, frantically. "What, now that I have, as it were, begun to live?"

"One kind, forgiving word," she said, faintly. "One? A thousand!" he panted; "my own--my love! Leave me? No, you shall not go! Is my love for you so weak and poor that I should let you go--that I should turn from you in this hour of trial? Helen!" he cried; "I tell you it is not the Helen of the past I love, but you--you, my own! Tell me that you have turned to me--truly turned to me at last, and live to bless me with your love!"

Her lips parted, and she tried to speak, but no words came. Her eyes closed, and as he clasped her more firmly to his breast a faint shuddering sigh seemed to fan his cheek.

"You shall not die," he whispered, as he raised her thin arm and laid it tenderly round his neck, while his heart throbbed heavily against hers; "I am strong, and my strength shall give you strength, my breath should be yours, Helen, love, were it my last. Take it, darling, and breathe and live, my own--my wife--my all!"

As he whispered frantically these words he seemed endued with the idea that she would draw life from his strong manliness, and breathe it in his breath, as he bent down lower and laid his lips upon hers.

Then the shuddering sigh came again, and feeble as she was before, he felt her relax and sink away; her arm fell from where it rested on his shoulder, and in an agony of dread he stamped upon the floor.

There was a hurried rush of feet, the door was flung open, and the doctor entered the room.

"Quick!" he cried. "Lay her down, man!--That's well."

"Is--is she dead?" groaned the Resident; and in an agony of remorse and despair he sank back in the chair by the bedside, as he saw the doctor take one hand in his and lay his other upon his patient's throat.

"No," said Dr Bolter, shortly. "Fainting. Go away."

"But, Bolter--" protested the Resident.

"Be off, man, I tell you!" cried the little doctor, angrily, showing how thoroughly he was autocrat of the sick room. "Go, and send in my wife, and Miss Stuart. Or no: my wife will do."

The Resident bent down once over the thin, dark face, and then stole softly out of the room, to find Mrs Bolter waiting; and nodding quickly, she went in and closed the door.

"What news?" asked Hilton, eagerly, as he rose from a chair near the window.

"I don't know--I dare not say," replied Harley, sinking hopelessly into a chair; and for a time no one spoke.

It was the doctor who broke the silence by coming back from the sick room, and this time sending a thrill of hope into the breast of all as he began to rub his hands in an apparently satisfied manner, and gazed from one to the other.

"Is--is she better, doctor?"

"Don't know! won't prognosticate!" he said, sharply. "I'll say that she's no worse. Prostrated by mental emotion, but other symptoms at a standstill. If she lives--well, if she lives--"

"Yes, yes, doctor!" cried the Resident, imploringly.

"Well, if she lives, I think it will be from some sudden turn in her mental state, for I have done all I know, and of course a man--even a medical man--can do no more."

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER TWENTY SIX.

MORE MATING.

Slow work--terribly slow work; but at the end of three days--during which at any moment it had seemed as if the light of life would become extinct--Helen Perowne still lived, and in place of Grey Stuart or Mrs Bolter, Neil Harley was mostly by her side.

She suffered still from wild attacks of delirium, and in her wanderings, if the firm, strong hand of the Resident was not there to hold her, she grew plaintive and fretful, and a look of horror appeared upon her wasted face; but no sooner did she feel Neil Harley's firm clasp and hear his whispered words, than she uttered a sigh of content, and dropped always into a placid sleep.

To his surprise and delight, these words seemed to pacify her; a long-drawn sigh came from her breast, and she fell into a restful slumber.

During the rest of the critical time of her illness a few whispered words always had the desired effect, and from that hour Helen began rapidly to mend.

"Yes, she is improving fast now," said the doctor, as he sat beside her bed talking, as if he believed his patient to be asleep. "I shan't take any of the credit, Harley. I should have lost her, I am sure, for it was not in physic to do more than I had done. There, I am going down now to my specimens, to have a look at them, and talk to my wife, for I have hardly seen her of late."

He rose and left the room, and the Resident took his place, seeing that the great dark eyes were fixed upon him, full of a strange, pathetic light, that the warm evening glow seemed to give an almost supernatural effect.

"You are awake, then?" he said, softly.

"Yes; I heard all that he said, and it is true."

"Thank heaven!" said the Resident, fervently, as he took one of the thin brown hands from the white coverlet and held it in both of his.

"I believe it was your tender words that gave me hope," said Helen, softly. "Now it is time to take them back."