g that she
was ill, he was so touched as to be quite overwhelmed with grief.
He gained Euphemia frequent leaves of absence, and sent messages of
condolence and bouquets,--huge bunches of flowers which made Dolly laugh
even while they pleased her. There was always a bouquet, stiff in form
and gigantic in proportions, when Phemie came.

At first Phemie caught the contagion of Dolly's own spirit and
hopefulness, and was sustained by it in spite of appearances; but its
influence died out at the end of a few weeks, and even she was not to be
deceived. An awful fear began to force itself upon her,--a fear doubly
awful to poor, susceptible Phemie. Dolly was getting no better; she was
even getting worse every day; she could not sit up; she was thinner and
larger-eyed than ever. Was something going to happen? And at the mere
thought of that possible something she would lose her breath and sit
looking at Dolly, silent, wondering, and awe-stricken. She began to
ponder over this something, as she tried to learn her lessons; she
thought of it as she went to bed and she dreamed of it in the night.
Sometimes when she came in unexpectedly and found Dolly in one of those
prostrate sleeps, she was so frightened that she could have cried out
aloud.

She came in so one evening at twilight,--the professor had brought her
himself and had promised to escort her home,--and she found Dolly in one
of these sleeps. So, treading lightly, she put the bouquet in water, and
then drew a low chair to the girl's side and sat down to watch and wait
until she should awaken. Miss MacDowlas was in her own room writing
to Aimee; so the place seemed very quiet, and it was its quietness,
perhaps, which so stirred Phemie to sorrowful thoughts and fear.

Upon her brightly flowered chintz cushions Dolly lay like the shadow
of her former self. The once soft, round outlines of her face had
grown clear and sharp-cut, the delicate chin had lost its dimple, the
transparent skin upon the temples showed a tracery of blue veins, the
closed eyelids had a strange whiteness and lay upon her eyes heavily.
She did not move,--she seemed scarcely to breathe. Phemie caught her own
breath and held it, lest it should break from her in a sob of grief and
terror.

This something awful _was_ going to happen! She could not recover
herself even when Dolly wakened and began to talk to her. She could not
think of anything but her own anguish and pity for her friend. She could
not ta