I expect, in a few minutes. Her
disease is a typhus fever, which has swept off whole families within
these last two months, and still rages violently; fortunate indeed, is
the house which has to mourn but one victim. I would that you had not
arrived just now, for it is a disease easily communicated. Many have
fled from the country for security. To add to our misfortunes, we have
suffered from the want of medical advice, for the physician and the
patient have been swept away together."

The door was now slowly opened, and a tall, dark man, in a brown cloak,
holding to his nose a sponge saturated with vinegar, entered the room.
He bowed his head to Philip and the priest, and then went to the
bedside. For a minute he held his fingers to the pulse of the sufferer,
then laying down her arm, he put his hand to her forehead, and covered
her up with the bedclothes. He handed to Philip the sponge and vinegar,
making a sign that he should use it, and beckoned Father Seysen out of
the room.

In a minute the priest returned. "I have received his directions, my
son; he thinks that she may be saved. The clothes must be kept on her,
and replaced if she should throw them off; but everything will depend
upon quiet and calm after she recovers her senses."

"Surely, we can promise her that," replied Philip.

"It is not the knowledge of your return, or even the sight of you, which
alarms me. Joy seldom kills, even when the shock is great, but there
are other causes for uneasiness."

"What are they, holy Father?"

"Philip, it is now thirteen days that Amine has raved, and during that
period I have seldom quitted her but to perform the duties of my office
to others who required it. I have been afraid to leave her, Philip, for
in her ravings she has told such a tale even unconnected as it has been,
as has thrilled my soul with horror. It evidently has long lain heavily
on her mind, and must retard her recovery. Philip Vanderdecken, you may
remember that I would once have had the secret from you--the secret
which forced your mother to her tomb, and which now may send your young
wife to follow her, for it is evident that she knows all. Is it not
true?"

"She does know all," replied Philip, mournfully.

"And she has in her delirium told all. Nay, I trust she has told more
than all; but of that we will not speak now: watch her, Philip. I will
return in half an hour, for by that time, the doctor tells me, the
symptoms wil