“I’ll keep it under my pillow,” she said, and several times that day Fanny saw her looking at it, particularly at her name and the date. “I wish ‘July —’ wasn’t there. It brings the dreadful day back to me, and I see him and hear him and hear my scream, which must have filled the valley,” she said. “You will get over that when you are stronger,” Fanny suggested. “Maybe,” Inez replied, and Fanny noticed that after that the watch lay a little away from her instead of under her pillow. The next morning Inez handed it to her, saying, “Will you think me foolish if I ask you to take it away. Doesn’t it tick very loudly?” Fanny did not think so, and Inez continued: “I had father put it on the bureau and the table and at last in the drawer last night, but I could hear it saying ‘_halt, halt_,’ just as _he_ said it. I am sorry, but I can’t bear it. Take it away.” With a feeling of disappointment Fanny took it from her and said, “Shall I give it to Mr. Hardy to keep for you until you are better?” “No, no; oh no, not to Tom; anything but that,” Inez exclaimed, and greatly puzzled Fanny put the watch in her travelling bag down stairs where she was sure the fancied _halt_ could not be heard. Inez’s attitude towards Tom had troubled Fanny from the first. She never asked for him, and if he came into her room and spoke to her, his visit was sure to be followed by a chill, or headache. At last Fanny spoke of it to Mr. Rayborne, who replied, “Inez is rather fanciful. It is part of the disease to turn against your best friend. Perhaps Tom had better stay away.” After that he staid away, but Fanny frequently found him near the door when she went out and in. “I am here to see if there is anything I can do,” he said in explanation, offering to go for whatever she wanted and saving her many steps up and down the stairs. Towards her father Inez’s manner was different. She seldom spoke to him, but she allowed him to sit by her and once she took his hand with a look in her eyes which he could not misunderstand, and he said to her, “Yes, daughter, I promise before Heaven _that work_ is finished for me and Tom, too. I can answer for him.” Fanny’s step was heard outside and he stopped abruptly, but Inez seemed brighter and better for what he had said. He was constantly in the sick room, frequently sitting in the shadow where he could see not only the fever stained face with the sunken eyes in which the shadow of a great horror was still visible, but the fair, blue eyed girl who filled him with pride and an intense desire to take her in his arms and call her his daughter. CHAPTER XIII. THE SISTERS. Ten days passed and there was no real improvement in Inez. Occasionally she would rally and inquire about the household matters, showing that she had some interest in them, but these moments were always followed by sinking spells when life seemed nearly extinct. The doctor was greatly perplexed.