Many a friendly voice whispered at the door, "How is he?" The Irish waiters crossed themselves and stept softly through the hall, as they went on their hasty errands; and many a consultation was held among warm-hearted gentlemen friends, (who had made Harry's acquaintance at the hotel, during the pleasant summer,) to decide which should first prove their friendship by watching with him. Ruth declined all these offers to fill her place. "I will never leave him," she said; "his reason may return, and his eye seek vainly for me. No--no; I thank you all. Watch _with_ me, if you will, but do not ask me to leave him." * * * * * In the still midnight, when the lids of the kind but weary watchers drooped heavily with slumber, rang mournfully in Ruth's ear the sad-plaint of Gethsemane's Lord, "Could ye not watch with me one hour?" and pressing her lips to the hot and fevered hand before her, she murmured, "I will never leave thee, nor forsake thee." CHAPTER XXVII. "Have you got the carpet-bag, doctor? and the little brown bundle? and the russet-trunk? and the umberil? and the demi-john, and the red band-box, with my best cap in it? one--two--three--four; yes--that's all right. Now, mind those thievish porters. Goodness, how they charge here for carriage hire! I never knew, before, how much money it took to journey. Oh dear! I wonder if Harry _is_ worse? There now, doctor, you've put your foot right straight through that band-box. Now, where, for the land's sake, are my spectacles? 'Tisn't possible you've left them behind? I put them in the case, as you stood there in the chayna closet, drinking your brandy and water, and asked you to put them in your side-pocket, because my bag was full of orange-peels, scissors, camphor, peppermint-drops, and seed-cakes. I wouldn't have left 'em for any money. Such a sight of trouble as it was to get them focussed right to my eyes. How _could_ you, doctor, be so blundering? I declare it is enough to provoke a saint." "If that's the case, there's no immediate call for _you_ to get vexed," said the doctor, tartly. * * * * * "Is that the house?" asked the old lady, her curiosity getting the better of her indignation; "what a big hotel! I wonder if Harry _is_ worse? Mercy me, I'm all of a quiver. I wonder if they will take us right into the drawing-room? I wonder if there's many ladies in it--my bonnet is awfully jammed: beside, I'm so powdered with dust, that I look as if I had had an ash barrel sifted over me. Doctor! doctor! don't go on so far ahead. It looks awk'ard, as if I had no protector." * * * * * "How's Harry?" said the doctor, to a white-jacketted waiter, who stood gossipping on the piazza steps with a comrade. "Funny old chap!" said the waiter, without noticing the doctor's query; "I say, Bill, look how his hair is cut!" "'Taint hair," said Tom, "it is a wig."