“And you—?” Poor Gwen evaded the searching look of her lover by burying her face in the counterpane. “My father never told me what had happened until next day.” She looked up at Lionel. “Do not ask me if I felt for you; I do not know, and I do not wish to remember. I only know that two days after, as I rode back through the Park, I looked in to inquire how you were. I came into this room, and found the surgeon, who told me your nurse had to leave, for she had been suddenly taken ill; and I sat down by your bed, just as I was in my riding-habit, to watch you until another nurse had been found.” “Poor Gwen, it was a horrid ordeal, for you always hated sickness and loathed nursing.” “Yes, and I was so mad at the surgeon suggesting that I should watch you, that I lashed your dog with my whip as he came running into the room. He set up a most awful howl which you never heard, fortunately. I sat down, and you began to wander. At first it seemed but the ravings of a madman and I did not pay much attention; but by the evening, I was amused at your suggestions, and told the upper housemaid to go and fetch my maid with my things. I had made up my mind to stay.” “To nurse me, Gwen? Ah! how good of you,” interrupted Lionel. “No, Lionel, I don’t want you to have a wrong impression of me, it was not at all to nurse you, it was in the hopes that you would renew that fascinating dream. You were most entertaining that night, and I laughed outright at the funny things you said.” “I daresay it was as amusing as the play you would have gone to that night,” laughingly remarked Lionel. “Oh! my dear Lionel, I was so very tired of my social entertainments; and the whole show had lost a good deal of its glamour, for it was my third season.” “So you thought my dream was more diverting, and therefore decided to remain in the seat for which you had not paid.” “Yes, that’s it; I must confess the truth, for we must never deceive each other again.” “Poor little Gwen, how you must have hated me, for I am ashamed to say, some of my remarks were anything but flattering.” “No, Lionel; but you taught me how to know you, and I learned how to know myself. I have sat night after night in this chair, listening to your dream, watching every phase of your regenerated London. I shared in all your reforms, and at times you even answered my questions. I could start your weird dream at any time, and at a suggestion of mine you would take up the thread of your narrative just where you had left it the night before.” “It must have been like a sensational _feuilleton_ which you expected each day to thrill you anew. But how worn out you must be, sweetheart. How long have I been in this condition?” inquired Lionel.