o you mean to say he is ill,
Ogden?"

"Yes, Miss Kate, I am afraid he is. He wasn't very well last night, and
this morning he is worse. He complains dreadful of headache, and he
ain't got no appetite whatsomever. He's been lying down pretty much all
day."

"Why did you not tell me sooner?" Kate cried, with a pang of remorse at
her own neglect. "I will go to him at once."

She hastened upstairs, and into her brother's rooms. The young man was
in the bedroom, lying on the bed, dressed, and in a sort of stupor. As
Kate bent over him, and spoke, he opened his eyes, dull and heavy.

"Harry, dear," Kate said, kissing him, "what is the matter? Are you
ill?"

Harry Danton made an effort to raise, but fell back on the pillow.

"My head aches as if it would split open, and I feel as if I had a
ton-weight bearing down every limb. I think I am going to have the
fever."

Kate turned pale.

"Oh, Harry, for Heaven's sake don't think that! The fever has left the
village; why should you have it now?"

He did not reply. The heavy stupor that deadened every sense bore him
down, and took away the power of speech. His eyes closed, and in another
moment he had dropped off into a deep, lethargic sleep.

Kate arose and went out into the corridor, where she found Ogden
waiting.

"He has fallen asleep," she said. "I want you to undress him, and get
him into bed properly, while I go and prepare a saline draught. I am
afraid he is going to be very ill."

She passed on, and ran down stairs to her father's study, where the
medicine-chest stood. It took her some time to prepare the saline
draught; and when she returned to the bed-chamber, Ogden had finished
his task, and the sick man was safely in bed. He still slept--heavily,
deep--but his breathing was laboured and his lips parched.

"I will give him this when he awakes," Kate said; "and I will sit up
with him all night. You can remain in the next room, Ogden, so as to be
within call, if wanted."

Kate remained by her sick brother through the long hours of that wintry
night. She sat by the bedside, bathing the hot face and fevered hands,
and holding cooling drinks to the dry lips. The shaded lamp lit the room
dimly, too dimly to see to read; so she sat patiently, listening to the
snow-storm, and watching her sick brother's face. In the next room Mr.
Ogden slept the sleep of the just, in an arm-chair, his profound snoring
making a sort of accompaniment to the howling of the wind.