The old, old fascination fell upon her, the same half unconsciousness of all surrounding things. The star grew dim, the roar of the river receded to an immense distance, and then arose the spirit. What intercourse they had cannot be told: whether she half yielded to the desire to soar above this earthly ball, and stepped forward to his embrace—whether she eagerly implored for pardon for her weakness, dazzled by worldly glory. The dog Dando had followed her unchidden. He alone of all that had pertained to Aymer and Violet, Agnes had retained. He knew the old path so well. He crouched so still at the foot of the great oak trunk. So quietly, so heedlessly, taking no heed of the figure, the shadow that stole onward in the dark beneath the beech trees—stole forward from trunk to trunk, from bunch of fern to hawthorn bush. A grey shadow in the form of a man—a crouching, stealthy, gliding approach—yet the dog Dando made no sign. And Agnes stood with arms extended almost over the mouth of “The Pot.” And the grey shadow reached the hollow oak trunk. In the left hand of this shadow was a _tin whistle_. Chapter Ten. After a while, Aymer awoke from the stupor into which the drug that had been administered to him had thrown his senses. His awakening was more painful than the first effects of the poison. His head felt as heavy as lead, and there was a dull pain across his brow. A languid helplessness seemed to possess his limbs, he could not walk across the room, and with difficulty stretched out his hand to the bell-rope. Then all the designs upon the wall-papering got mixed up before his eyes in a fantastic dance, which made him giddy, till he was obliged to shut them. His consciousness had as yet barely sufficiently returned for him to notice that he was in a different apartment to any he had hitherto occupied at the asylum. He must have had partial returns to consciousness previously, for he found himself sitting in a large armchair, half clad, and wearing a dressing-gown. A second pull at the bell-rope brought footsteps outside the door, which sounded heavy upon the boards, evidently uncarpeted. Then a key turned in the lock outside, at the sound of that Aymer opened his eyes quickly, and a strong-looking man, whom he had never seen before, peered in. “Where is Mr Theodore?” said Aymer. “Is Miss Waldron come? Tell them I am better. Ask her to see me. What has been the matter with me?” “You’ve had one of your fits, sir,” replied the man, very civilly, but in an indifferent tone. “My fits! I never have fits. Why do you stand in the doorway? Why was the door locked?” “All right sir—don’t excite yourself. There, you see you can’t stand. It’s your head, sir, your head.” “Send me a doctor instantly,” said Aymer. “A doctor? He’s been to see you three or four times.” “Three or four times! How long have I been ill, then?” “Oh, five days, I think. Let’s see, you were brought over here on the Tuesday I remember—yes, five days.”