prepared for the worst," said the doctor, solemnly. "At
the same time, there is a chance."

"Well, suppose that the turn should be unfavorable, how long would it
be, do you think, before the end? I have much to attend to, and it is
of the greatest important that I should know this."

"Probably a month--possibly less," answered the doctor, gravely,
after a moment's thought; "that is, if the worst should take place.
But it is impossible to speak with certainty until, your symptoms are
more fully developed."

"Thank you, doctor, for your frankness; and now, will you kindly send
my daughter to me?"

"Remember," said the doctor, doubtfully, "that it is of the greatest
possible moment that you be kept free from all excitement. Any
agitation of your mind will surely destroy your last chance."

"But I must see her!" answered the General, excitedly. "I have to
attend to something which concerns her. It is her future. I could not
die easily, or rest in my grave, if this were neglected."

Thus far the General had been calm, but the thought of Zillah had
roused him into dangerous agitation. The doctor saw that discussion
would only aggravate this, and that his only chance was to humor his
fancies. So he went out, and found Zillah pacing the passage in a
state of uncontrollable agitation. He reminded her of her promise,
impressed on her the necessity of caution, and sent her to him. She
crept softly to the bedside, and, taking her accustomed seat, covered
his hand with kisses.

"Sit a little lower, my darling," said the General, "where I may see
your face." She obeyed, still holding his hand, which returned with
warmth her caressing pressure.

The agitation which the General had felt at the doctor's information
had now grown visibly stronger. There was a kind of feverish
excitement in his manner which seemed to indicate that his brain was
affected. One idea only filled that half-delirious brain, and this,
without the slightest warning, he abruptly began to communicate to
his daughter.

"You know, Zillah," said he, in a rapid, eager tone which alarmed
her, "the dearest wish of my heart is to see you the wife of Guy
Molyneux, the son of my old friend. I betrothed you to him five years
ago. You remember all about it, of course. He visited us at London.
The time for the accomplishment of my desire has now arrived. I
received a letter from Lord Chetwynde on the day of my accident,
telling me that his son's regiment was short