"She is delirious, poor child," he said to himself; and he tried to remove the enlacing arms from his neck. "No, no; don't leave me," she said softly. "Don't be angry with me for saying this." "I am not angry, but you are weak. You have been very ill, and you must not be excited now." "No, I am not excited. I only feel happy--so happy. You are not angry?" "Angry? No," he said tenderly. "There, let me lay you back upon your pillow. Try and sleep." "No. I do not wish to sleep. Only tell me once again that you are not cross, and then sit down by me, and let me hold your hand." "Poor girl!" muttered North, as he felt the hands which had clasped his neck steal down his arm softly and lingeringly, as if they delighted in its strength and muscularity, resting for a few moments upon his wrist, and then grasping his hand tightly, while their owner uttered a low sigh of satisfaction. He seated himself by the bedside, and Leo said softly, as she lay gazing into his eyes: "I feel so happy and restful now." "And as if you can sleep?" "Sleep? No. Let me lie and look at you. Don't speak. I want to think. Shall I die?" "Die? No; you must get better now, and grow strong, for Mary's sake and for Hartley's." "And for yours," said Leo softly, as she smiled lovingly in his face. "I shall be your wife if I live." "You shall live, and grow to be happy with all who love you." "Yes," she said softly, "with all who love me;" and she closed her eyes. "It _is_ delirium, poor child," said North to himself. "Good heavens! am I such a scoundrel as to think otherwise?" He sat back in his chair startled by the thoughts which had surged up to his brain. He was horrified. For, in spite of medical teaching, of his thorough command over himself, and of the fact that he had always been one whose love was his profession, he had found that he was strongly moved by the words and acts of the beautiful girl who had seemed to be laying bare the secrets of her heart. "Delirium--delirium! the workings of a distempered brain," he said to himself fiercely. "Good heavens! am I going to be delirious too?" At that moment Leo opened her eyes again, with a calm, soft light seeming to burn therein, as she smiled in his face and drew his hand more to her pillow so that she could rest her cheek upon it, and once more her eyes half closed; but he knew that she was gazing at him still with the same soft, loving look which, in spite of his self-control, made his heart beat with a dull, heavy throb. "I have so longed to tell you all this," she whispered; "but I never dared till now. It has made me bitter, and distant, and strange to you. I was angry with myself for loving you; and yet I could not help it. You made me love you. I always did--I always shall." "It is delirium," panted North. "I will not listen to her. Pah! it is absurd. Where is my manliness--where are all my honourable feelings? I can master such folly, and I will."