Meanwhile, Mrs Brandon lifted the wasted form in her arms, and bore it to a couch, where she strove ineffectually to restore animation. Everything she tried seemed useless; and at last, weeping bitterly, she sank upon her knees, and clasped the fragile figure to her heart, moaning as she did so: "My poor stricken bird! my poor little dove! what does it mean--what does it mean?" But the form she clasped might have been that from which the vital spark had just fled, save that the icy coldness began gradually to yield to the temperature of the room. Volume 3, Chapter XXII. LIGHT!--AND DARKNESS? Dr Tiddson at last, panting and out of breath; for he had run the greater part of two miles, and upon hearing the few words Mrs Brandon had to utter, he cast aside all the pedantry of his profession to which he clung, and knelt down by the inanimate form. "Every symptom of having passed through a state of fever," he said softly. "Slightly convulsed, even now," he muttered, as from the pulse his finger went to her face. "The candle a little nearer," he said, as he raised an eyelid. "Yes, I thought so! Lungs seem right. I'd stake my life she has but lately risen from a sick bed. Heaven bless the poor child, she's worn to a skeleton! Here, quick, Edward!" "I'm here, sir," growled the hard footman. "Take that to my house," he said, hurriedly writing some directions. "Run, my good man, please." "I will, sir," said Edward huskily, as a great tear ran trickling down his nose; "but please tell me, sir--we all liked her very much--you--you don't think she'll die?" "We'll hope not, Edward--we'll hope not," said the doctor solemnly. "Now go." Edward gave a great coarse sigh as he ran out of the room; but it was genuine sympathy, and worth a host of fine words. "There's something more than ordinary disease here, Mrs Brandon," said the doctor. "We'll watch by her to-night; and if there is no change by morning, I should like to share the responsibility, and have the counsel of some able practitioner." They passed that night and many more by the wasted girl's bedside, during which time not once did she give sign of consciousness. Occasionally a faint fluttering of the pulse seemed to tell of returning power; but it was but a false hope held out. An almost supernatural strength had enabled her to seek the refuge, where she had somehow, in the darkened state of her intellect, recalled that she would be welcome. Led almost by a subtle instinct, she had made her way by the different lines, and then exhausted her last powers in slowly walking over from Laneton, to sink inanimate at her protectress's feet. It was long before her senses had thoroughly returned, so that she could recognise those around, and speak in the faintest whisper; but Mrs Brandon trembled, for she judged by what she saw in the doctor's looks that it was but the precursor of a deeper sleep.