ut me again."

"My husband says you are not to talk," replied Olivia, gently, "so I
must carry out his orders; there is some medicine you are to take, and
by-and-by I shall bring you some hot broth; if only your cough were
easier you would be able to sleep, but perhaps the drops will do you
good."

"Thanks awfully; if you will put them down by me, I will take them, but
please, please do not trouble about me, I am not worth it. I never was
worth anything;" he sighed and there were tears in his eyes; but Olivia
took no notice, she put things straight and then went about her
business. On her next visit she found him sleeping; but as she put
down the cup of hot broth beside him he half woke.

"Mother," he said, in a hoarse voice, "I never did it, I swear to you
on my honour; I was never as bad as that; ask Olive, she believes in
me, she knows I could not be such a low cad."

"Mr. Barton, I have brought you your broth; will you please take it
before it gets cold?" and Olivia's clear voice roused Robert Barton
effectually.

"I was dreaming," he said, looking at her rather confusedly. "I
thought I was at Medhurst, in the old library; oh, what a fool I am!"
and there was almost a despairing look in his eyes.

"You are weak, or you would not dream so, and yet it must be natural to
dream about your own people. I am so glad you have someone belonging
to you; last night we were afraid that you were quite friendless," then
she stopped as she remembered Marcus's injunctions.

"No, I am not friendless," he returned, raising himself with
difficulty, and coughing as he spoke. "Even the prodigal son had
relatives, you know--a father and an elder brother; but he was better
off than I, for he knew where to find them"--but here such a terrible
fit of coughing came on, that Olivia forbade him to say another word.

"You shall tell us all about it when you are better," she said, kindly;
"perhaps, who knows, we may be able to help you find your friends; we
are poor people ourselves, my husband is only just beginning to make a
practice, so there is not much that we can do."

Then as she stooped over him and wiped his brow, she was almost
startled by the sweetness of the smile that crossed the young man's
face.

"Not much," he reiterated; but Olivia shook her head at him to
inculcate silence, and carried away the empty cup.

When Marcus came home at dinner-time, she proposed sending a note
across to Galvaston House to tell Mr.