"I must go up and see her at once--the dear child! the dear, brave child!" cried Mrs Faucit warmly; and she hurried upstairs, the Dean following, shaking his head in meaning manner, and treading on tiptoe as he entered the room, and advanced to the bedside. Mildred lay fast asleep, her hair falling over the pillow in shining golden tangles; while one arm was thrown over the counterpane, the other tucked under her head, so that her cheek rested in the hollow of her palm. There were dark shadows beneath her eyes; and she looked so white and spent, so unlike her usual radiant self, that Mrs Faucit's eyes overflowed with tears, and she bent involuntarily to press a kiss upon her lips. The scream with which Mildred started up in bed made the two hearers fairly leap back in amazement. The sudden awakening was too much for the disordered nerves, and the soft touch had brought with it a hundred nightmare dreads. When she saw who was standing beside her, she calmed down in a moment, and apologised in shamefaced manner. "Oh, Mrs Faucit, I am so sorry I startled you! I had just shut my eyes, and I thought it was--something dreadful--I don't know what exactly! How did you get back? What time is it? Is breakfast ready? Oh, I am so glad you are here! It is all right! I shut the door--they can't get out!--" "Yes, dear, yes--I know! Don't think about it. We will have a long talk to-night when you are rested, but try to go to sleep again now. I am so vexed with myself for disturbing you!" "I can't sleep. I've tried, but it's no good. I've been awake all night!" sighed Mildred pitifully. She believed that she was speaking the truth, but in reality she was so sleepy at the present moment that she hardly knew what she was saying. She raised pathetic eyes to the Dean's face, and inquired, with a yawn: "Wh-at did the Archbishop say about Cecile?" "Bless me!" cried the Dean in alarm. "This is terrible--the child is wandering! She doesn't know what she is saying!" He laid his hand on Mildred's forehead, and backed out of the room, beckoning furtively to his wife as he went. Outside in the passage he ruffled his hair in helpless misery. "Her head is burning, Evelyn! the child is in a fever! Something must be done at once. I don't like to see her suffering. Er--er--what could you give her, dear? Aconite and belladonna? What do you say to aconite and belladonna--every half-hour?" He looked so comical with his ruffled hair and distended eyes, that his wife could not restrain a smile. "Oh, she will be all right, dear, after a day's rest!" she said reassuringly. "I will keep her in bed, and not allow her to talk too much. You need not be anxious; Mildred is too healthy to be upset for more than a few hours!"