"Yes," he said; "and it is only now I am beginning to understand something of the situation. I do believe mental distress has had as much to do with bringing on this fever as anything else; the chill may have been only an accident that developed it. I told you when I saw him, before he was struck down, how he seemed to be all at sixes and sevens with himself--everything wrong--worried, hara.s.sed, and sick of life, though he would hardly explain anything; he was always too proud to ask for pity. Well, now, I am piecing together a story, out of these incoherent appeals and recollections that come into his delirium; and if I am right, it is a sad enough one, for it seems to me so hopeless. I believe he was all the time in love with that Nina--Miss Ross--and did not know it; for their a.s.sociation, their companionship, was so constant, so like an intimate friendship. Then there seems to have been some misunderstanding, and she went away unexpectedly--there is a box of jewels and trinkets on the top of the piano, and I am certain these were what she sent back to him when she left. I don't think he has the slightest idea where she is; and that is troubling him more than anything else--"

"But, Maurice," said Francie, instantly, "could we not find out where she is?--surely she would come and see him and pacify his mind; it would just make all the difference! Surely we could find out where she is!"

Mangan hesitated; it was not the first time this idea had occurred to himself.

"I am afraid," said he, "that, even if we knew where she was, it would be rather awkward to approach her. There may have been something about her going away that prevented Linn from trying to find her out. For one thing, his engagement to Miss Burgoyne. I believe he blundered into that in a sort of reckless despair; but there it is; and there it is likely to be, unfortunately--"

"But surely, surely, Maurice," said Francie, "Miss Ross would not make that any obstacle if she knew that her coming would give peace and rest to one who is dangerously ill. Surely she would not think of such a thing at such a time--"

"And then again," he said, "the chances are all against our finding her, if she wishes to remain concealed, or even absent. Linn talks of Malta, of Australia, of San Francisco, and so on; but I don't believe he has the slightest idea where she is. No, I'm afraid it's no use thinking of it; the crisis of the fever will be here before any such thing could be tried."

Then he said, presently,

"I had a visit from Miss Burgoyne yesterday afternoon."

"I suppose she was terribly distressed," Francie said, naturally enough.

"Oh, no. On the contrary, she was remarkably cool and composed. I almost admired her self-possession. She does not think Lionel's throat will suffer; and no doubt she trusts to his sound const.i.tution to pull him through the fever; so perhaps there is not much reason that she should betray any anxiety. Oh, yes, she was very brave about it--and--and business-like. At the same time I confess to a sort of prejudice in favor of feminine women. I think a little touch of femininity might improve Miss Burgoyne, for example. However, she knows she is in possession; and if Linn pulls through all right, there she is, waiting for him."

It seemed to Francie that her companion had managed to form a pretty strong dislike towards that young lady, considering how little he could possibly know of her.

"I suppose one ought not to contemplate such things," he continued, "but if Linn were to come out of the fever with the loss of his voice, I suspect he would have little trouble in freeing himself from that engagement with Miss Burgoyne."

"But surely a woman could not be so base as to keep a man to an unwilling engagement!" Francie protested, as she had protested before.

"I don't know about that," her companion said. "As I told you, Miss Burgoyne is a business-like person. Linn, with his handsome figure and his fine voice, with his popularity and social position, is a very desirable match for her; but Linn become a n.o.body--his voice gone--his social success along with it--would be something entirely different. At the same time, Dr. Whitsen agrees with her in thinking there won't be any permanent injury; it is the fever that is the serious thing."

They went back to the house; the reports were no better. And all that night Lionel's fevered imaginings did not cease. He was haunted now by visions of cruelties and sufferings being inflicted on some one he knew in a far-distant land; he pleaded with the torturers; he called for help; sometimes he said she was dead and released, and there was no more need for him to go away in a ship to seek for her. The wearied brain could get no rest at all. Daylight came, and still he lay there, moaning and murmuring to himself. But help was at hand.

Between ten and eleven, Dr. Ballardyce, who had paid his usual morning visit, was going away, and Maurice, as his custom was, went down-stairs with him to hear the last word. He said good-bye to the doctor and opened the door for him; and just as he did so he found before him a young woman who was about to ring the bell. She glanced up with frightened eyes; he was no less startled; and then, with a hurried "I beg your pardon," she turned to go away. But Maurice was by her side in a moment--bareheaded as he was.

"Miss Ross!" he exclaimed--for surely, surely, he could not have mistaken the pale olive face and the beautiful, soft, dark, l.u.s.trous eyes; nay, he made bold to put his hand on her arm, so determined was he to detain her.

"I--I only wished to hear how he was--but--but not that he should know,"

Nina said (she was all trembling, and her lips were pale).

"Oh, yes," Mangan said. "But you must not go away--I have something to tell you--come in-doors! You know he is seriously ill--you cannot refuse!"

There was but an intervening step or two; she timidly followed and entered the little hall; and he closed the door after them.

"Is he so very ill?" she said, in a low voice. "I saw it in the newspapers--I could not wait--but he is not to know that I came--"

"But--but I have something to say to you," he answered her, somewhat breathlessly, for he was uncertain what to do; he only knew that she must not go. "Yes, he is very ill--and distressed--his brain is excited--and we want to calm him. Surely you will come and speak to him--"

She shrank back involuntarily, and there was a pathetic fear in the large, timid eyes.

"Me? No--no!" she said. "Ah, no, I could not do that! Is he so very ill?"

Tears stood in the long, black lashes, and she turned her head away.

"But you don't understand," Maurice said, eagerly. "All the way through this illness, it is about you he has been grieving; you have never been out of his thoughts; and if you saw his distress, I know you would do anything in your power to quiet him a little. It is what his cousin said yesterday. 'If we could only find Miss Ross,' she said, 'that would be everything; that would bring him rest; he would be satisfied that she was well, and remembering him, and not gone away forever.' I never expected to see you; I thought it was useless trying to find you; but now--now--you cannot be so cruel as to refuse him this comfort! You would be sorry if you saw him. Perhaps he might not recognize you--probably not. But if you could persuade him that you really were in London--that you would come some other day soon to see him again--I know that would pacify him, just when peace of mind is all-important. Now, can you refuse?"

"No, no," Nina said, in a low voice; "you will do with me what you like.

It is no matter--what it is to me. Do with me as you please." And then again she turned her large, dark eyes upon him, as if to make sure he was not deceiving her. "Did you say that--that he remembered me--that he had asked for me?"

"Remember you! If you only could have heard the piteous way he has talked of you--always and always--and of your going away. I have such a lot I could tell you! He had those loving-cups filled one night--there was some fancy in his head he could call you back--"

She was sobbing a little; but she bravely dried her tears, and said,

"Tell me what I am to do."

But that was precisely what he did not know himself--for a moment. He considered.

"Come up-stairs," he said. "His family are there. I will tell him a visitor has called to see him. He often thinks you are there, but that you won't speak to him. Well, you will just say a few words, to convince him, and as quietly as you can, and come out again. Perhaps he will take it all as a matter of course; and that will be well; and I will tell him you will come again, after he has had some sleep. Of course you must be very calm too; there must be no excitement."

"No, no," Nina murmured, in the same low voice, and she followed him up-stairs.

On entering the sitting-room she glanced apprehensively at those strangers; but Francie, divining in an instant who she was and why Maurice had brought her hither, immediately came to her and pressed her hand, in silence.

Maurice went into the sick-room.

"Linn," said he, cheerfully, "I've brought you a visitor; but she can't stay very long; she will come again some other time. You've always been asking about Miss Ross, and why she didn't come to see you; well, here she is!"

Lionel slowly opened his tired eyes and looked towards the door; but he seemed to take no interest in the girl who was standing there, pale, trembling, and quite forgetting all she had been enjoined to do. Lionel, with those restless, fatigued eyes, regarded her for but a second--then he turned away, shaking his head. He had seen that illusory phantom so often!

"Linn," said his friend, reproachfully, "when Miss Ross comes to see you, are you not going to say a word to her?"

It was Nina herself who interrupted him. She uttered a little cry of appeal and pity--"Leo!" She went quickly forward, and threw herself on her knees by the bedside, and seized his hand, and bathed it with her hot tears. "Leo, do you not know me! I am Nina! If you wish me to come back--see! see!--I am here! I kiss your hand--it is Nina!"

He looked at her strangely, and turned with bewildered eyes to Maurice.

"Maurice, is it twelve o'clock? Has she really come this time? Did you hear her speak just now? Is it Nina--at last! at last!"

With her head still bowed down, and her whole frame shaken with her sobbing, but still clasping his hand, she murmured to him some phrase--Maurice guessed it was in the familiar Neapolitan dialect; for Lionel presently said to her--slowly, because of his heavy breathing:

"Ah, you are still _la cianciosella_!--but you have come back--and not to go away. I have forgotten so many things. My head is not well. But wait a little while, Nina--wait a little while--"

"Oh, yes, Leo," she said, and she rose and dried her eyes, with her head turned aside somewhat. "I will wait until you have plenty of time to tell me. I shall come and see you whenever you want me."

She looked at Maurice humbly for directions; his eyes plainly said--yes, it was time she should withdraw. She went into the other room--rather blindly, as it seemed to her--and she sank into a chair, still trembling and exhausted; but Francie was by her side in a moment.

"Did he know you?" she asked in an undertone.

"Yes, I think," Nina answered. "But oh, he looks so strange--so different. He has suffered. It is terrible; but I am glad that I came--"

"It is so kind of you--for I see you are so tired!" said Francie, in her gentle way. "Perhaps you have been travelling?"