The brother and sister parted for the night, after lingering long; for Hilary, tired as she was, could scarcely bear to shorten the few hours which they might yet have to spend together. And the morrow’s post brought the dreaded, the expected change; the summons to duty, which, for his sake, Hilary welcomed with a smile, a cheerful tone, an energetic kindness. But when the parting was over, all her strength gave way, physical weakness asserted its supremacy, and she was forced to allow depression and pain to take their course. She could not raise her head from the sofa all that day, and when Charles Huyton called, she was too ill to see him. There was some comfort in that; it partly paid her for her nervous languor, for her aching head, and fevered frame; she was able to be invisible, without a fear of ingratitude. The strong stimulus withdrawn, the occupation ended, the anxious suspense for Maurice terminated, her own thoughts would turn to her own affairs. It was a week, only a week, since the memorable Thursday, the day when she had last seen Captain Hepburn; how long it seemed; double that time, at least. She had to tell herself it was only a week, to suppress the rising impatience, to quell the incipient murmur. Duty with him must be first; public before private duty; patriotism before feeling; honor before love; his country before his friends. This she knew right well; and she ought not to feel herself neglected, or fear herself forgotten, merely because a week had passed without direct intercourse. No, not if vanity did not mislead her, not if she had understood him rightly, and read his character correctly. He did love her! that she believed, but there were other doubts more harassing than to doubt his love. Her present torment was to doubt what her duty should be. Had she not resolved, promised, bound herself to sacrifice her whole time, care, and affection to her father and sisters? this had been her most solemn determination. How had she kept it? By yielding to the first impulse of affection; by allowing her mind, her fancy, and her feelings to be engrossed by another; by one who, a fortnight ago, was an entire stranger to her; by one who had never told her that he loved her; by one whose professional duties might make an engagement to him, even if he offered it, incompatible with her own domestic ties. What was she wishing to do? where were her resolutions, her promises, her intentions of self-devotion and self-forgetfulness? Forgotten at the very moment when they were put to the test. Thoughts such as these, self-torturing and reproachful thoughts, were not of a nature to still her throbbing pulses, or cool her aching brow; they were hardly more medicinal than the hot tears which the parting with her brother cost her.