‘It wouldn’t be the least use for me to try to go to sleep before night,’ she said; ‘my mind is much too active for that. I’ll obey you in anything else you like, Lucius, but don’t ask me to lie down in my room to-day. I should worry myself into a fever.’ ‘Very well,’ replied Lucius, with a sigh; ‘I won’t insist upon anything you object to. You can rest in this room. If I find your grandfather no better this morning I shall bring in a nurse.’ ‘O, please don’t.’ ‘Nonsense, Lucille. I am not going to allow your life to be sacrificed to your mistaken notion of duty. Some one must nurse Mr. Sivewright, and that some one must not be you.’ ‘Let it be Mrs. Wincher, then.’ ‘No; I have not too high an opinion of these faithful Winchers. I shall bring in a woman upon whom I can rely.’ Lucille looked at him with that strange scared expression he had seen so often of late, and then said with some bitterness: ‘It seems to me that you are master in this house, Lucius, so I suppose you must do as you please.’ ‘I only constitute myself master here when I see peril,’ he replied calmly; ‘and now, Lucille, try to obey me in some small measure at least. Let Mrs. Wincher bring a sofa of some kind to this room, and lie down and try to sleep. I will send you a tonic as soon as I get home. Good-bye.’ He bent down to kiss her as she sat in the armchair, where he had placed her, too weak to rise. ‘Shall you come here again this evening?’ she asked. ‘Yes; your grandfather wants to talk to me about something, and I daresay I shall be an hour or so with him in the evening. After that I shall have something to tell you, Lucille, if you are well enough to hear it. Something pleasant.’ ‘You are not going to frighten me any more, I hope,’ she said. ‘No, darling, I will never again frighten you.’ ‘I daresay you despise me for my cowardice.’ ‘Despise you, Lucille? No, I only regard this nervous terror as a sign of weakened health. I am very sure it is not natural to you to be wanting in courage.’ ‘No,’ she answered, with a faint sigh, ‘it is not natural to me.’ She turned her face away from him, and tears fell slowly from the sad eyes, as she faltered a faint good-bye in response to his tender leave-taking. ‘O, merciful God,’ she ejaculated, when the door had closed behind her lover, ‘Thou who knowest the weight of my burden, help me to bear it patiently.’ * * * * * Lucius found no improvement in his patient—retrogression rather. But this might be fairly accounted for by Mr. Sivewright’s excitement of the night before. ‘I did very wrong to let you talk so much,’ said Lucius; ‘you are more feverish than usual this morning.’ ‘I am altogether worse,’ answered the old man fretfully. Then came a detailed account of his aches and pains. There were symptoms that puzzled the surgeon, despite his wide experience, and much wider study.