een them.
Warmer and more sultry grew the days, and more fiercely raged the
fever in Mrs. Hamilton's veins, until at last the crisis was reached
and passed, and she was in a fair way for recovery, when she was
attacked by chills, which again reduced her to a state of
helplessness. One day, about this time, a ragged little boy, whose
business seemed to be lounging around the hotel, brought to Lenora a
soiled and crumpled note, on which was traced with an unsteady hand,
"Dear Lenora, I am sick, all alone in the little attic; come to me,
quick; come!"

Lenora was in a state of great perplexity. Her mother, when awake,
needed all her care; and as she seldom slept during the day there
seemed but little chance of getting away. The night before, however,
she had been unusually restless and wakeful, and about noon she seemed
drowsy, and finally fell into a deep sleep.

"Now is my time," thought Lenora; and calling Hester, she bade her
watch by her mother until she returned, saying, "If she wakes tell her
I have gone to the village, and will soon be back."

Hester promised compliance, and was for a time faithful to her trust;
but suddenly recollecting something which she wished to tell the girl
who lived at the next neighbor's she stole away, leaving her mistress
alone. For five minutes Mrs. Hamilton slept on, and then with a start
awoke from a troubled dream, in which she had seemed dying of thirst,
while little Willie, standing by a hogshead of water, refused her a
drop. A part of her dream was true, for she was suffering from the
most intolerable thirst, and called loudly for Lenora; but Lenora was
not there. Hester next was called, but she, too, was gone. Then,
seizing the bell which stood upon the table, she rang it with all her
force, and still there came no one to her relief.

Again Willie stood by her, offering her a goblet overflowing with
water; but when she attempted to take it, Willie changed into Lenora,
who laughed mockingly at her distress, telling her there was water in
the well and ice on the curbstone. Once more the phantom faded away,
and the old porter was there, wading through a limpid stream and
offering her to drink a cup of molten lead.

"Merciful Heaven!" shrieked the sick woman, as she writhed from side
to side on her bed, which seemed changed to burning coals; "will no
one bring me water, water, water!"

An interval of calmness succeeded, during which she revolved in her
mind the possibility of