As it would probably be late before Maurice returned from “the Ferns,” they persuaded the vicar not to sit up, promising that he should immediately hear the report which his son would bring; and more for Gwyneth’s sake than his own, he yielded to their wishes; so the visitor remained alone to wait his friend’s arrival, and wile away the long minutes as best he could. He had plenty of time for reflection and consideration then; time to recall all that Victoria had told him, to weigh her words, and guess what her motives were: time to remember Hilary’s smile and blush, as she talked of the violets with him; time to take from his bosom that little bunch of flowers with its soiled and dabbed white bands, and to smooth and dry the valued memorial of her peril and his exertions, which he had picked from the grass where it had dropped as Maurice raised her in his arms; time, too, to put up ardent prayers for her safety and petitions for her happiness; and to endeavor to judge how far that happiness was likely to be affected by his continuing there, persevering in an attempt to win her heart, and obtain a promise of her love and faith. The report which Maurice brought, did not materially differ from the opinion Dr. Pilgrim had given to Captain Hepburn; she was sleeping, but not quietly; there was still a threatening of fever, which might subside in the night, or might increase toward morning. Mr. Huyton had persuaded the doctor to remain all night at “the Ferns,” and Maurice intended to ride over before breakfast the next morning, to ascertain, as early as possible, how she had passed the night. Not that the brother was much alarmed; his sanguine temper and cheerful disposition made him take a happier view of probabilities than the father or the lover could do, and he anticipated with tolerable steadiness a much better report in the morning; or even should there be a little fever for a day or two, it need be nothing to alarm them; she was always well, and he did not think her delicate; surely there could be little serious fear, although there was room perhaps for some anxiety. So thought and argued Maurice, and apparently Captain Hepburn agreed with him; he was, however, found anxiously pacing up and down the green, the next morning, when Maurice returned from his early ride; and the eagerness with which he asked for intelligence, rather by look than word, did not indicate calm indifference, or careless certainty. Not so well――feverish and restless; still Dr. Pilgrim hopes the best, and thinks it will soon pass off; however, she must see no one but her nurses, and is to be kept quiet. Nest was sleeping soundly, and to guess from appearances, would wake quite well. Such was the report. Charles had promised to come over rather late in the forenoon, to bring word how she was going on, as the doctor had recommended some new mode of treatment, from which he expected much benefit.