nice for
him, but what he requires now is absolute rest and quiet. Come, come.
You are too strong-minded a little woman to be superstitious. Go where
you will, in old houses, there has generally been a death in some of the
bedrooms; but believe me, that does not affect the living. Why, if that
were the case, what should we do at the hospitals? You are going to
install yourself here, then, as nurse? That's right. Let my
instructions be carried out, and I'll come in again at noon."

Whispered conversation went on all through the house that day, but
though there had been the attempt at burglary, Mr Girtle hesitated
about calling in the police again, and on consulting the doctor, he
quite agreed that it would be better not to have them there.

"It will only disturb my patient," he said, "and, depend upon it, with a
light and people sitting up, the scoundrels will not come again."

"Well," said Mr Girtle, "we will not communicate with the police at
present."

The doctor came in at one, and again at five; and, on leaving, looked
rather serious.

"If he is not different to this at about nine, when I come in again,
I'll get Sir Ronald Mackenzie to see him. I'll warn him at once that he
may be wanted."

"Then you think his case serious?"

"Brain injuries always are."

At nine o'clock, when the doctor came, his manner startled Lydia, who
had patiently watched the sufferer all day.

"Yes," he said; "I will have Sir Ronald's opinion. I shall be back in
half-an-hour."

He left the room and hurried down-stairs, while Lydia bent down and laid
her cheek against the patient's burning hand. He was delirious now, and
talking loudly and rapidly.

"Yes, it is there," he kept on saying. "Count four stones from the
left, press on the fifth, and it will swing around. I have it safely--
do you hear?--safely."

This went on over and over again, and as Lydia listened, something, she
knew not what, made her turn her head, when it seemed to her that one of
the bed curtains trembled, and that, in the gloom, a hand was softly
drawing one back, that the sick man's words might be more plainly heard.

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.

HIGH WORDS.

Looking again in the direction of the hand, but telling herself that it
was fancy, Lydia sat down to wait anxiously for the doctor's return,
while Capel went on, talking more or less incoherently.

"You know I love you," he said softly. "Katrine--darling--you will be
my wife. Let the