"Doctor," said Edward, as the former entered the room, fully intending to exert his professional authority, "I cannot and will not sleep till I hear more favourable accounts of Miss St. Clair. Tell me at once if there is any hope." "Hey-day, my friend, your energy gives me strong hopes for your own complete recovery at all events, but you know well that we are not the arbiters of life and death; we can only use all the means and trust to a Higher Power for the result." "But _is_ there any hope?" persisted Edward. "Certainly, I cannot deny there is hope," he replied. "Dr. Anson also is very sanguine respecting the result of our efforts; but, my friend, if you will not take the sleeping draught, I must insist on your keeping yourself warm and quiet, or the consequences of your sea-bath will be more serious than you anticipate; and now I must return to Miss St. Clair, who at the present moment requires all the attention we can give her." "Send me word directly a change for the better takes place," said the patient anxiously, as Dr. Freeman turned to go. "I will come myself," he replied, "on condition that you keep quiet and try to sleep." "Well," thought the doctor, as with cautious steps he proceeded to the young lady's room, "the man has not been in this place much more than a week, his landlady tells me, or I should suppose he was Miss St. Clair's lover by the way he goes on." Could he have been aware of Edward Armstrong's thoughts, as he lay with closed eyes, but mentally awake, he would more readily have understood the cause of his restless and wakeful anxiety. He had tried to save the life of a girl to whom he had been strangely attracted, and after all, though he might mourn over the untimely death which could blight such a lovely flower, still he had not even a right to sympathise with her relatives, to whom he was a stranger. They might certainly appreciate his sympathy, and be grateful for his efforts to save her, but they could not know anything of the hopes which he had within the last few days encouraged and fostered. And what were these hopes? he asked himself. Were they not founded on impossibilities? Even if Miss Maria St. Clair recovered, and owed her life to his energy, could he still hope to win her? Would the Honourable Mrs. St. Clair consider a London tradesman, who owned a shop, a suitable husband for the descendant of an Earl? for such her youngest daughter truly was. Would saving her life create a debt of gratitude sufficiently strong to break down the barriers of social prejudices and social distinctions? Would the fact of his being able to support a wife in comfort and luxury tempt the mother to give him her portionless daughter? He found himself unable to answer these mental queries, and as he turned from side to side in restless anxiety, poor Mrs. Lake longed for good news from the best bedroom, as much for the sake of her lodger as for the friends of the young lady themselves.