Mary's were aching, and she was about to ring for the lamp, for the short December afternoon was closing in, and Salis was in the act of wiping his pen, when Leo suddenly let fall her book, to sit up rigidly, staring wildly at them. "Leo, my child!" "Well, what is it?" she said; and her voice sounded harsh and strange. "Why did you say that? You knew I should say yes." "Yes, yes, of course, my dear; but I did not speak." "You did. You said I lied unto you, quite aloud, and"--with a return of her irritable way--"are we never going to have dinner?" Salis rose from the table where he had been writing, and laid his hand upon his sister's arm. "Leo, dear," he said anxiously; and he gazed in her wild eyes, which softened and looked lovingly in his. "No," she said, as she nestled to him and laid her cheek upon his arm; "a bit of a wrench. My shoulder aches, but it will soon be well, dear." "Lie back in your chair," said Salis, as he laid his hand upon her throbbing brow. "Yes, that's nice," she said, smiling as she obeyed. "So cool and refreshing--so cool." "Do you feel drowsy? Would you like to have a nap?" "Yes, if you wish it," she said. "I am sleepy. Don't tell them at home, dear." Salis started, and his face grew convulsed, as he exchanged glances with Mary, who read his wish, wrote a few lines in pencil, and softly rang the bell. "Take that at once," she whispered to Dally Watlock, who entered, round-eyed and staring. "To Mr Tom Candlish, miss?" "No, no, girl; to Mr North." Mary drew her breath hard as the door closed behind the girl, for she read in her words a tale of deceit and also who had been the messenger, perhaps, in many a love missive sent on either side. She tried to rise, feeling that this was a time of urgent need; but her eyes became suffused with tears as she sank back helpless in her seat. "Take my arm, Leo, dear," said Salis. "You would be better if you went up to your room and lay down." "Yes, dear; if you wish it," she said softly; and she started up, but caught at her brother, and clung to him as if she had been seized by a sudden vertigo, and then stared wildly round. Salis gave Mary a nod, and then, drawing Leo's arm through his, led her up to the door of her room, which she entered while he ran quickly down. "Quite delirious," he said quickly. "I hope North will not be long. I thought he would have been here this morning." He was busy as he spoke preparing for a task which he had performed twice daily since Mary's convalescence. For, taking her in his arms as easily as if she had been a child, he bore her out of the room and up to Leo's door. As Mary, trembling with anxiety, pressed it open, Leo uttered an angry cry, dashed forward, and thrust the door back in her face. "No, no!" she said hoarsely; "not you. Let me be. Let me rest in peace." "But Leo, dear, you are ill." "I am not ill," she cried fiercely. "Go away!"