'George did not know how to settle things right, though he was very good to me, and did everything I asked.'

'Nursing is not men's work,' replied Susan; 'I am afraid that he did not make you lie quiet enough. I mean to be very strict, and not let you talk at all.'

'I will be quiet presently,' said Miriam, sitting up in bed with a restless gesture which destroyed the effect of all Susan's arrangements for her comfort. But first I must tell you why I wanted you

so much.'

Not now,' said Susan; 'lie still, and perhaps you will go to sleep.'

'I do not want to sleep,' replied Miriam, shuddering. All last night I had such hideous dreams, that it is better to lie and think, though that is bad enough.'

"You would be less feverish if you were to lie still.'

'Then you will not listen to what I have to say?' said Miriam imploringly; and Susan thought it wiser to give way to her increasing excitement. "Yes, I will, Miriam, if you will promise to lie quiet afterwards.'

'I promise,' she answered; but the permission seemed to subdue her eagerness. However, she presently resumed in a faltering voice, 'Do you ever write to your cousin ?'

'To Leonard? Yes, Mamma or I write now and then, when there is anything particular to say.' 'Well, next time you write, I want you to tell him that George is here.'

"And what does he know of George ?'

'More than you do,' Miriam answered hurriedly. 'Tell him why he came, all that terrible story which makes me feel that it is wicked to rejoice in having him once more. And tell him how I am haunted by his warning, which I would not heed at the time, that I must not hate, but learn forgiveness. And now it is too late.'

'I will tell him when I write,' said Susan, who began to imagine that she spoke in the delirium of fever, and Miriam divined her thoughts.

'You only say that to pacify me, Susan. You do not really mean to tell him, because you do not believe what I say. I am not delirious, but soon I may be, and if I do not send my last words to him now, may never be able to do so, and then he will think that I died forgetting him.'

I

'Now, Miriam,' said Susan firmly, though she was in truth not a little frightened and uneasy, 'you must not talk so wildly. I am not deceiving you when I say that Dr. Ellis does not think your illness at all alarming now, but it may soon become so if you do not control yourself.'

'I do not care. And yet,' Miriam added, after a moment's silence, though I thought I should be glad to die, I feel afraid, for I know that I am not fit. And then George will be left alone, and Leonard will be grieved, though there is no one else to care.'

'If you cannot lie quiet, Miriam, I must go away and leave you alone,' said Susan.

'I will be quiet,' answered Miriam ; and for some minutes she lay still, struggling to recover self-con

I

trol. Then she looked up, and said humbly,' Now, Susan, will you believe that I am not delirious, and that I meant all I said just now ?'

Her manner was collected, but as Susan knelt down by the bedside, and put her arms round Miriam, she felt that her heart was beating wildly. She saw the necessity of subduing this agitation, though her constrained tone betrayed that the concession by which this might be effected cost her an effort. I do believe you, Miriam. I will write to Leonard to-night, expressly for the purpose of delivering your message.'

'Tell him,' continued Miriam, ' that I am ill and very unhappy, and that I think often of those few bright days when he was here, the only bright days I have known since Mamma died. And say that I have missed him so much, and have so longed for his coming.'

Susan's lip curved with a strange, withering smile. Surely that will suffice, Miriam. Such messages were hardly meant to be sent through a third person.'

Miriam's maidenly dignity was not insensible to the sarcasm, and the colour came flushing into her cheeks, glowing though they were before. ‘I think you are right,' she faltered, and that the fever makes me talk wildly. Only tell him that George is here, and about-'

6

Susan checked her, observing the fixed and terrified expression which came over her face as she approached the subject of her father's death. I understand,' she said; 'I will write to my cousin as I

promised, and you must keep your promise also, and talk no more.'

Miriam submitted. She laid her head on the pillow with a look of relief, and her heavy and irregular breathing presently betrayed that she had fallen into a troubled sleep.

116

'A

CHAPTER XII.

All day, within the dreamy house,
The doors upon their hinges creak'd;
The blue-fly sung i' the pane; the mouse
Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd
Or from the crevice peer'd about.
Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors,
Old footsteps trod the upper floors,
Old voices called her from without.

She only said, "My life is dreary."
"He cometh not," she said.
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead."

TENNYSON.

ND I thought her cold!' Susan said to herself, when she was at length at liberty to retrace her steps to the Mains; well, I shall know better now!'

She quickened her pace, as if stung by some thought which interrupted the chain of her reflections, but they were presently resumed. They met but three times, and he has known me all these years and he seemed to care for me. Perhaps he cares for me still, after his careless, cousinly fashion. It is well; no one knows or suspects my folly, Leonard least of all; it was never before acknowledged to myself, and it shall be blotted out