‘Oh, Cave!’ she screamed suddenly, as the fever made a fiercer grasp upon her brain, ‘tell me you are _not_ married! You cannot be! It is impossible, because you love me so! And you are going to tell papa! You have promised me that you will tell papa directly you receive that letter from England. Why can’t you tell him now? Is he busy? Who are those people in the yard? How fierce and strange their faces look! Do they want to kill him? Oh, Cave, save my father! save my poor father! Look at all the wolves round him! Save him from the wolves!’ She was becoming so terribly excited, that I was obliged to hold her down in her bed by main force. ‘Down, down!’ I heard her mutter. ‘Look at the gold pressing me down—till I sink into the earth! Napoleons—bright yellow Napoleons! How nice and cool they feel! but they are very heavy—much too heavy for me! I am not very old, you see. I was eighteen on the day I had those silver earrings you like so much—and you are thirty! How can you love me when I am so much younger than yourself? Yet you do, don’t you? You have sworn it so many times! Oh yes, yes; I understand. You needn’t be afraid. I shan’t tell Hilda!’ The fever was running so high, and the dear child was becoming so violent, that I felt desperate. What could I do to quiet her? I had a bottle of laudanum in my room that I kept in the event of toothache, and I poured twenty or thirty drops of it in a little water, and gave it her to drink. Rightly or wrongly done, it had the effect of making her doze off for an hour, during which time I sat with bated breath and folded hands, lest I should disturb the charm. At seven o’clock Tessie crawled into the room again, looking like a washed-out rag. She seemed as if she wanted almost as much care as her sister, although I do not believe she at all realised the danger Ange was in. ‘Oh, I am so weary!’ were the first words she said to me. ‘I see you are. Well, look here, Tessie: I am going downstairs now to make you a good strong cup of coffee, and then I shall lie down till twelve o’clock, when you must come and call me again.’ ‘Oh, that won’t be fair, Hilda! You sat up all last night.’ ‘Never mind! I am stronger than you are, and a few hours’ rest will make me quite fresh. Ange is sleeping quietly now, and I hope she may continue to do so. But, at any rate, you are to wake me at twelve.’ Notwithstanding my boasted strength, however, I was very glad to close my eyes in sleep; for to hold a night’s vigil is very trying when one is unaccustomed to it. But I have always possessed the ability to wake myself at any given hour. I lay down that evening, expecting to be roused at midnight: and at midnight I roused myself, without giving any one the trouble to call me. I waked in the darkness, struck a match, and perceived the hands of my little clock stood at fifteen minutes past the hour.