Next morning, Elinor rang her bell before dawn, and was terrified to learn that fever had set in during the night, to be followed by delirium. It was only then, in the surprise she felt at her own despair, that she realized how dear Léon had become to her, and she now admitted to herself that she could never be happy without him. Of her pride and futile prejudices nothing remained; her whole being was engrossed by the thought of his danger. Mme. de Gernancé was so afraid her agitation would betray her that she took great trouble throughout the day to keep her out of the patient's room; but the next night, when her household was in bed, and she was once more alone and sleepless in the solemn silence which intensifies suffering and renders fear unbearable, Elinor, unable any longer to wrestle with her anxiety, rose and slipped out into the corridor to listen at the door of Léon's room and find out how he was. He was still evidently delirious, and the distressed accents of his trembling voice came brokenly to her ear. Forgetting everything but her grief, she opened the door softly and went in. The nurse had fallen asleep. By the dim light of the lamp she recognized the pleasant features that were so deeply graven on her memory; but the eyes were now fixed, the face bright with fever; his labored breathing could scarcely lift the sheet that seemed to weigh all too heavily on his chest. Elinor dropped into an arm-chair that was close to the door and hid her face and her tears in her two hands. The slight noise she made roused Léon from his momentary stupor. "Is that she?" he said. "Will she come? I am going to die. Let me see her at last. Tell her I am dying. But where is she to be found? I have lost her--lost her forever." He paused, and then began again. "My daughter--bring her to me. Can they refuse to let me see my child when I am dying? Poor little thing! Don't try to find your father. You have none. He was not able even to give you his blessing in his last moments." This was too much for Elinor, and she burst out sobbing. Léon started and turned his head slightly, but his eyes, still fixed, saw nothing. "Where is this mysterious hiding place? What do I see on the sofa? It is you, you whom I adore, you whom I sought. I hold you in my arms. But your mask--take off your mask, do take it off. What! You still want to run away? No, no, you shall not escape me again." As he spoke, he made an effort to raise himself. "Léon," cried Elinor, rushing to the bedside, "Léon, stop!" He looked up at her, startled, uncertain; then, after an instant's silence, he began again more calmly: "It is too much. Lift my head. Ah! if I could but sleep!" By this time the nurse, roused by Elinor's cry, had come forward to support him, but he turned from her, and let his head drop on Elinor's bosom. By degrees, a more tranquil sleep seemed to steal over his senses.