“We will talk about that to-morrow,” he replied, and suddenly Aline felt a strong arm passed around her shoulders, her hands were drawn away from her face, the point of a teaspoon was pressed against her lips, and held there firmly in spite of her struggles, until she had swallowed every drop of the odious draught. “How dared you?” she cried, her face flaming with anger and resentment; and Mrs. Griffin remarked dryly: “If you act like a baby, you must expect folks to treat you like one.” Aline turned from her to the rash offender, who did not look very frightened or sorry, but only amused at her ebullition of wrath. “I beg your pardon,” he said, gently, but coolly. “I did not wish to offend you, Miss Rodney, but it was quite necessary you should take the doctor’s prescription. Do not think too hardly of me for doing my duty,” and then he walked quietly out of the room. CHAPTER VII. Aline was so indignant at the gentle force Mr. Delaney had used in compelling her to swallow the physician’s prescription that she angrily resolved not to submit to its influence, but to lie awake in spite of it, and bemoan her hard fate, in being thus cruelly separated from home and friends. She indulged herself for a little while in the most vehement sobs and tears, reckless of the injury she was doing herself in her feverish condition, and willfully intent on making herself as disagreeable as possible to her hard-hearted jailers. But the potent drug she had unwillingly taken was stronger than her will. The lids fell lower and lower over the heavy, tearful eyes, her moans grew fainter and fainter, until at last they ceased altogether, the dark lashes drooped upon the warm, flushed cheeks, and she fell asleep like a grieved child, sighing now and then in her slumber, and tossing restlessly, as if her sorrow had followed her even into the land of dreams. Mrs. Griffin remained on guard by her side a patient, untiring watcher, like one accustomed to such nightly vigils, until the brief summer night passed away and the “gray-eyed morn” peered in through the close drawn shutters upon the beautiful girl who still remained wrapped in deep, unbroken slumber. The grim, careful nurse looked at the fair, sleeping face from time to time with irrepressible admiration. She contrasted it, in fancy, with a monstrous face on which she was compelled to gaze daily, and she shuddered at the difference. “She is as beautiful as an angel. How terrible it would have been if that devil had murdered her!” she thought. She left the room after awhile, and locked the door after her, remaining absent nearly two hours. When she returned with a light, appetizing breakfast arranged upon a tray, Aline was awake and gazing dreamily around her at the unaccustomed room. “You feel better after your sleep, I hope, Miss Rodney, do you not?” she inquired, and Aline was obliged to admit that she did, feeling half ashamed at the petulance she had displayed before falling asleep.