He took the hand that was quite as large as his own, and caressed it reassuringly. "I don't think there is the slightest danger, Ellen, dear, but I am convinced I must attend you to-morrow. I shall feel better to be with you." "Oh, Edward!" sighed the maiden, enraptured at this declaration of tenderness, "you are so careful of me." He smiled and still caressed her hand, saying: "Listen, darling," drawing her nearer to him, "I don't like to have you here; it is not a fit place for you. And I find that remarks are being made. This I cannot endure. Besides, I do not think it right for you or me to leave your brother so entirely at the mercy of--Mrs. Arthur. Promise me that you will consult a physician to-morrow, and as soon as the danger of contagion is past, you will go back." "But I can't bear to leave _you_, Edward." "And you shall not. I will come to Oakley too." "You? Oh, how nice! Have they asked you to come?" "I saw Mrs. Arthur's brother to-day, and we settled that." "Oh, _did_ you? Then you are good friends again?" He turned upon her a look of inquiry. "Again?" "Yes; Cora told me not to speak of Mr. Davlin to you, as you were not good friends, and it might make you less free to come to the house." Mr. Percy's eyebrows went up perceptibly. "Mrs. Arthur is very thoughtful; but she was mistaken; our little misunderstanding has not made us serious enemies." "Oh, how nice!" rapturously. "_Very_ nice," dryly. "Now you will be a good girl and go back soon?" "I don't think Cora will be over anxious to have me come back," she said, looking like a meditative cat-bird. "I know she kept that Celine in the house to spite me." "I can readily understand how she might be jealous of you, dear. Perhaps she fears your influence over your brother. At any rate, your duty lies there. When it is time to do so, don't consult her or anyone; take possession of your former apartments, and stand by your brother in his hour of need." Miss Arthur promised to comply with her lover's request, and he managed at last to escape from her, and seek the repose which he preferred to such society. All this time John Arthur was a prisoner in the west wing. He was attended by the doctor sometimes, by Celine occasionally, and by Henry almost constantly since the arrival of that sable individual. Lucian Davlin, having no taste for the work, kept aloof as much as possible. Himself and Dr. Le Guise, as he called his confederate, had labored hard and, with the assistance of old Hagar, had put the rooms in proper condition for the occupancy of a lunatic. And a lunatic John Arthur certainly was. Once before his removal, and once since, he had been seized with a paroxysm of undeniable insanity.