At last the turn came. The delirium ceased. The breathing grew less difficult. The dark cloud lifted from the house. The doctors pronounced that Harry was better; then, that there was no cause for immediate anxiety about him; then, that he was out of danger; and, finally, that his recovery was only a question of time. When he was able to sit up in the bed, Gerald was allowed to see him, at first only for a few minutes, and afterwards for a longer time. Lord Venniker, who had been profoundly touched by the sympathy--all the more expressive because so silent--of the boys, and by Gerald Eversley’s in particular, felt able to leave St. Anselm’s, though it was understood that he would return to take Harry home as soon as his travelling was permitted. Those were happy days, it will be believed, for Gerald Eversley. To see his friend brought back by slow steps from the brink of the grave was a holy joy to him. He watched with more than brotherly eagerness the signs of reviving health. Lord Venniker having now returned to Helmsbury, Miss Venniker came to spend a few days with Mr. and Mrs. Brandiston and to assist in nursing her brother. She and Gerald were thus thrown together; sometimes they were the only persons with him in the sick-room. Gerald looked with admiring surprise at her tenderness, her solicitude, her thoughtfulness, which seemed a little beyond her years, and her skill or tact in anticipating wants. His own life had not afforded him much insight into the ministering charities of womanhood. But as Miss Venniker sat at her brother’s bedside, holding his hand in hers, smoothing his pillows from time to time, or whiling away the long, long hours with talks of home, her eyes, her whole being illumined with the light of loving sympathy, Gerald could think of nothing so beautiful, unless it were the vision that came to him sometimes in his morning dreams, and he felt within himself that he had seen, as it were, the face of an angel.