I looked at him quietly without moving. He repeated the order, but I took no notice of it. “D--n her!” said he. “Is she deaf?” “Not a bit of it,” said John; “but she’s plucky. She’d just as soon you’d kill her as not. There isn’t any way of moving her.” “Turn round!” cried my father, angrily. I turned as he said. “You see,” said he, with a laugh, “she’s been piously brought up; she honors her father.” At this Clark burst into a loud laugh. Some conversation followed about me as I stood there. Clark then ordered me to turn round and face him. I took no notice; but on my father’s ordering it, I obeyed as before. This appeared to amuse them all very greatly, just as the tricks of an intelligent poodle might have done. Clark gave me many commands on purpose to see my refusal, and have my father’s order which followed obeyed. “Well,” said he, at last, leaning back in his chair, “she is a showy piece of furniture. Your idea isn’t a bad one either.” He rose from his chair and came toward me. I stood looking at him with a gaze so fixed and intense that it seemed as if all my being were centred in my eyes. He came up and reached out to take hold of my arm. I stepped back. He looked up angrily. But, for some reason, the moment that he caught sight of my face, an expression of fear passed over his. “Heavens!” he groaned; “look at that face!” I saw my father look at me. The same horror passed over his countenance. An awful thought came to me. As these men turned their faces away from me in fear I felt my strength going. I turned and rushed from the room. I do not remember any thing more. It was early in February when this occurred. Until the beginning of August I lay senseless. For the first four months I hovered faintly between life and death. Why did they not let me die? Why did I not die? Alas! had I died I might now have been beyond this sorrow: I have waked to meet it all again. Mrs. Compton says she found me on the floor of my own room, and that I was in a kind of stupor. I had no fever or delirium. A doctor came, who said it was a congestion of the brain. Thoughts like mine might well destroy the brain forever. For a month I have been slowly recovering. I can now walk about the room. I know nothing of what is going on in the house, and wish to know nothing. Mrs. Compton is as devoted as ever. I have got thus far, and will stop here. I have been several days writing this. I must stop till I am stronger. CHAPTER XXV. THE BYZANTINE HYMNISTS. More than a year had passed since that visit to Thornton Grange which has already been mentioned. Despard had not forgotten or neglected the melancholy case of the Brandon family. He had written in all directions, and had gone on frequent visits.