ave both shown that you do not fear the fever."

"Fear it, my dear? No!" he said, taking her thin white hand, kissing
it, and making as if to lay it reverently back upon the coverlet; but
the fingers closed round his, and a thrill of joy shot through his
breast, as it seemed for the moment that she was clinging to him.

"How am I ever to thank you enough?" she said, in a faint whisper. "Why
have you brought me here? It troubles me. I feel as if I should make
you suffer."

"But you mustn't talk now, my darling," whispered little Miss Burge.
"Wait till the doctor has been, and only lie still now and rest your
poor self."

"Yes--rest," she said feebly--"rest. I feel so easy now. All that
dreadful pain has gone."

"Thank God!"

She turned her eyes upon the speaker with a grateful look and smiled
faintly, motioning to him to take the chair by the bedside.

"Don't leave me," she whispered. "Yes; keep hold of my hand. You have
been so kind, and I seem to see it all now so plainly."

"But my darling, you must not talk. There, just say a word or two to
him, and then he must go. I'm going to ask the doctor to come and see
you now."

"No: let him wait. I must talk now. Perhaps to-night my senses will go
again, and I shall be wandering on and on amongst the troubles once
more."

"Then you will be very still, dear."

"Yes; I only want to lie and rest. Don't leave me, Mr Burge. Hold my
hand."

There was a sweet, calm look upon her face as she lay there, holding
feebly by the hand that tenderly grasped hers, and her eyes half-closed
as if in sleep.

From time to time William Forth Burge exchanged glances with his sister,
but the looks he received in return were always encouraging, and he sat
there, care-worn and anxious, but at the same time feeling supremely
happy.

An hour had passed before Hazel spoke again, and then it was in a
dreamy, thoughtful whisper.

"I've been thinking about the past," she said, "and recalling all that
has been done for me. I cannot talk much; but, Mr Burge, I can feel it
all. Don't--don't think me ungrateful."

"No, no," he whispered, as he bent down and kissed her hand; "I never
could."

"I was thinking about--about when you asked me--to be your wife."

"Yes, yes, my dear!" he said eagerly; "but I was mad then. It was only
an old fellow's fancy. I could not help it. It was foolish, and I
ought to have known better. But we know one another now, and all you've
g