Palm-trees, feathery-branched bananas, and arched rows of orange-trees shaded the lovely garden walks, all mosaic with polished pebbles; and there, amid the rose-trees and beds of tulip bordered by myrtle, a white marble fountain spouted, the very plash of its ceaselessly falling water seeming to cool the heated air; and, in view of all this, Allan Graham lay on his couch in the care of his mother and sister, but more often with Olive alone, for she had constituted herself by right his nurse, and ere long Eveline found a sufficient occupation for herself. How, the reader may guess. As for Allan and Olive, their reconciliation came speedily about, as such things never take long in real life if they are to take place at all; and the few minutes that followed are not very describable, as they remained, hand clasped in hand, in silence but with a happiness and content that were inexpressible,--'one of those rare periods in life when we forget our mortality and believe that heaven has begun for us.' At first Allan, fearful of some infectious nature in his ailment, had implored Olive to leave him. 'Go--go, Olive!' he exclaimed, faintly; 'do not come near me.' 'You dislike me so--so much?' said Olive, more faintly still. 'Oh, no, oh, no--not that, not that, when I now know all.' 'Why then, Allan?' 'Because all the doctors tell me that there is something typhoid in this Egyptian enteric fever, and if it were to affect you----' 'Allan!' she exclaimed, reproachfully; and, pressing her lips to his, added, 'if you die, let me die too.' 'Olive!' 'Do you doubt me now?' 'Oh, no--oh, no, my darling; but do leave me.' 'Why?' 'Because this sick-room is no place for you.' But Olive in the depth of her love was resolute, and kept her place as a watcher by his pillow, and day after day, with only short intervals of rest, was she there unvaryingly; and as she bent over Allan's sick-bed she felt how true it is that 'all the forces of our nature rush towards the channels of pity, of patience, and of love, and sweep down the choking drift of our quarrels, our debates, our would-be wisdom, and our clamorous, selfish desires.' Allan's life was for a time hovering in the balance, and Olive, as she sat by his pillow looking out on the Lake of Timsah, recalled the pleasant days of their childhood at Dundargue, where they had plaited rushes beside the trouting stream, and he had garlanded her hair with scarlet poppies and yellow cowslips, and he used to call her his little queen and wifie, while the great clouds cast their flying shadows over the green Sidlaw hills and the bonnie Carse of Gowrie. 'Days gone beyond recall, save in memory!' But, when she feared he might be going out from her sight for ever, her heart crew cold and seemed to die within her.