He took Miss Ramsey's seat, still holding Mariana's hand, and turning now and then to give directions in his smooth, well-modulated voice. Anthony was standing at the foot of the bed, his eyes upon the blankets. A light fall of rain beat rhythmically against the window-panes. The fire crackled in the grate and sent up a sudden, luminous flame, transfiguring the furniture in the room and the faces gathered in the shadow about the bed. Mariana stirred slightly. Presently Salvers rose and drew Miss Ramsey aside. "It is very serious," he said. "The danger is heart failure. In another case I should say that it was hopeless--but her constitution is wonderful. She may pull through." Then he asked a few questions concerning the cause of the relapse, and turned to go. "Keep her stimulated, as I have said," he continued; "that is all that can be done. I would stay until morning, but several of my patients are at critical points. As soon as I have seen them I will come back." He started, paused to repeat several directions, and left the room softly, the sound of his footsteps lost in the heavy carpets. Anthony took the chair beside the bed and laid his hand on the coverlet. He thought Mariana asleep. She was lying motionless, her heavy hair tangled in the lace on the pillow, her lashes resting like a black shadow upon her cheeks, her lips half parted. He remembered that she had looked like this after the birth of Isolde, when he sat beside the bed and the child lay within the crook of her arm. A groan rose to his lips, but he choked it back. The hand upon the coverlet was clinched, and the nails, pressed into the livid palm, had become purple. Still he sat motionless, his head bent, his muscles quivering like those of one palsied. The flame of the fire shot up again, illuminating Mariana's face, and then died slowly down. The rain beat softly against the window. Miss Ramsey went noiselessly into an adjoining room and came back, a glass in her hand. From across the hall a clock struck. Suddenly Mariana opened her eyes, moaning in short sobs. A blue wave was rising over her face, deepening into tones of violet beneath the shadows of her eyes. They measured the medicine and gave it to her and she lay quiet again. He put his arm across her. "Anthony!" she said. He bent his ear. "My beloved?" "Hold me, the bed is going down. My head is so low." He caught her passionately, his kisses falling distractedly upon her eyes, her lips, the lace upon her breast, and her cold hands. "And you do love me?" "Love you?" he answered, fiercely. "Have I ever loved anything else? O my love! My love!" His tears stung her face like fire. "Don't," she said, gently; and then, "It would have been very nice, the little farm in the South, and the peaches, and the cows in the pastures, but," she smiled, "I am not very thrifty--the peaches would have rotted where they fell, and the cows would never have been milked." "Mariana!"