in the air.

He was terribly excited, and in her fright Bell ran for Dr. Grant. But
Wilford motioned him back, hurling after him words which kept him from
the room the entire day, while the sick man rolled, and tossed, and
raved in the delirium, which had returned, and which wore him out so
fast. No one had the least influence over him except Marian Hazelton,
who, without a glance at Mr. Cameron or Bell, glided to his side, and
with her presence and gentle words soothed him into comparative quiet,
so that the bitter denunciations against the saint who wanted him to
die, ceased, and he fell into a troubled sleep.

Smoothing his pillow, and arranging the bedclothes tidily about him,
Marian turned to meet the eyes of both Mr. Cameron and Bell fixed
curiously upon her. With a strange feeling of interest they had watched
her, both feeling an aversion to addressing her, and both wondering if
she were indeed Genevra, as Katy had affirmed. They would not ask her,
and both breathed more freely when, with a bow in acknowledgment of Mr.
Cameron's compliment to her skill in quieting his son, she left the
room.

Neither said what they thought of her, nor was her name once mentioned,
but she was not for a moment absent from their minds as they from choice
sat that night with Wilford, who slept off his delirium, and lay with
his face turned from them, so that they could not guess by its
expression what was passing in his mind.

All the next day he maintained the most frigid silence, answering only
in monosyllables, while Bell kept wiping away the great drops of sweat
constantly oozing out upon his forehead and about the pallid lips.

Just at nightfall he startled Bell by asking that Dr. Grant be sent for.

"Please leave me alone with him," he said, when Dr. Morris came; then
turning to Morris, as the door closed upon his father and his sister, he
said, abruptly:

"Pray for me, if you can pray for one who yesterday hated you so for
saying he must die."

Earnestly, fervently, Morris prayed, as for a dear brother, and when he
finished Wilford's faint "amen" sounded through the room.

"I am not right yet," the pale lips whispered, as Morris sat down beside
him. "Not right with God, I mean. I've sometimes said there was no God,
but I did not believe it, and now I know there is. He has been moving
upon me all the day, driving out my bitterness toward you, and causing
me to send for you at last. Do you think there is hope for me?