ion was now approaching, and physical weakness
suddenly asserted itself most painfully.

Barbara felt only too plainly that it was time to leave her post of
observation; her feet would scarcely carry her and, besides, she was
freezing.

She had entered the damp cave chamber in a thin summer gown, and it now
seemed to be continually growing colder and colder.

Climbing down the high steps taxed her like a difficult, almost
impossible task, and perhaps she might not have succeeded in
accomplishing it unaided; but she had scarcely commenced the descent
when she heard her name called, and soon after Sister Hyacinthe entered
the frigidarium and, amid no lack of kindly reproaches, helped her to
reach the open air.

When even in the warm sunshine the chill did not pass away, Barbara saw
that the sister was right, yet she was far from feeling repentant.

During the night a violent attack of fever seized her, and her inflamed
throat was extremely painful.

When Dr. Mathys came to her bedside he already knew from the nun the
cause of this unfortunate relapse, and he understood only too well what
had induced Barbara to commit the grave imprudence. Reproof and warnings
were useless here; the only thing he could do was to act, and renew the
conflict with the scarcely subdued illness. Thanks to his indefatigable
zeal, to the girl's strong constitution, and to the watchful care of the
nurse, he won the victory a second time. Yet he could not rejoice in a
complete triumph, for the severe inflammation of the bronchial tubes had
caused a hoarseness which would yield to none of his remedies. It might
last a long time, and the thought that the purity of his patient's voice
was perhaps forever destroyed occasioned sincere regret.

True, he opposed the girl when she expressed this fear; but as July drew
to its close, and her voice still remained husky, he scarcely hoped to
be able to restore the old melody. In other respects he might consider
Barbara cured, and intrust her entire convalescence to her own patience
and caution.

Perhaps the ardent desire to regain the divine gift of song would
protect her from perilous ventures like this last one, and even more
certainly the hope which she had confided to the nun and then to
him also. The physician noticed, with warm sympathy, how deeply this
mysterious expectation had influenced her excitable nature, ever torn by
varying emotions, and the excellent man was ready to aid her as a frien