“You know I told you that she has been ill and nervous ever since the trouble happened about that girl; she has had bad dreams about the attempted murder, fancying the most absurd things! But for several nights she has been improving, and really I am too tired to go to her to-night. I am sure that you can soothe her without my assistance. Wake her and tell her she has been having bad dreams, and she will be herself again directly.” “You refuse to come?” sternly. “I beg your pardon, but I am too weary. I was just about retiring. Do leave me to rest, that’s a dear boy!” coaxingly. “Very well, have your way,” and he turned on his heel. She shut the door softly, with a frightened face. “What could I do if I went? She is having that horrible dream again, and I thought she was cured! It is only a dream; Laurie must get used to it, the sooner the better, and my presence can do no earthly good. Why did she fall asleep so soon? She could barely have spoken a word to him. I must have given her too much of the anodyne.” She sank back into her chair irresolute, feeling that fate had played her a dastardly trick, and wondering what would be the outcome of it all. General Willoughby, on the other side of the hall, hearing the voices in dispute, came out in his dressing-gown just as Mrs. Ritchie closed her door. “Is anything wrong?” he whispered, and his son returned: “I am troubled over Lelia. She seems to be ill and wandering in her mind; but her mother refuses to come to my assistance. What shall I do?” “Let me see her. Perhaps I can be of some help. She may have a fever. As a child she talked in her sleep when not well.” “Come, then,” Laurie answered gratefully, and led the way to his bride’s room, adding: “I hope she has quieted down by now, for it is simply frightful!” CHAPTER XXXIX. ONLY A DREAM! Lelia was sitting up in her bed, a beautiful vision of frenzy, her golden hair like a veil about her, her large blue eyes glaring into space, her white arms, exquisite as sculptured marble, outstretched aimlessly, while she muttered in a dreary monologue: “How my arms ache! She was very heavy! I do not see how my arms held out to drag her so far from the window to throw her in the old well!” The old general shuddered and muttered: “What a strange fancy! She is dwelling on the terrible tragedy of Rosalind’s attempted murder! She is ill, and it has taken hold on her mind. Shake her, Laurie, and bring her to her senses.” “I did before I went to her mother, but it only makes her worse. She seems in some strange trance, from which she cannot be roused.” “I will try,” said the old man, and he shook her gently, crying: “Wake up, Lelia, wake up! You are having nightmare dreams!” She struggled in his grasp; she repulsed him, furiously, muttering: