"What can such a shadow as I do? Tell me rather what you are going
to do, and where you'll be. You are real, and what you do amounts to
something."

"There's one thing I'm going to do, and that is, write you some jolly
letters that will make you laugh in spite of yourself. They will be
part of the tonic treatment that I want you to promise me to begin at
once."

"I have already entered upon it, Graydon," she said, quietly, "and I
don't think any one will value your letters more than I, only I may
not get strong enough to write very much in reply. I've never had
occasion to write many letters, you know. Tell me where you will be
and what you are going to do," and she leaned back upon her lounge and
closed her eyes.

While he complied, he thought, "She has grown pale and thin even to
ghastliness, yet I was sure she had color when I first came in. Poor
little thing! perhaps her fears are well founded, and I may never
see her again;" and the good-hearted fellow was full of tender and
remorseful regret. He was quite as fond of her as if she had been his
own sister, perhaps even more so, for his affection was not merely the
result of a natural tie, but of something congenial to his nature in
the girl herself, and it cut him to the heart to see her so white and
frail. He stopped a moment, and she opened her eyes and looked at him
inquiringly.

"Oh, Madge," he broke out, "I'm so sorry I took you to that confounded
party. You seemed getting on hopefully until that blasted evening.
You must get well enough to haunt me after your old fashion. You don't
know what a dear little sister you have become, and I didn't know it
myself until you were secluded by illness, and all through my fault.
You have barricaded yourself long enough with that stand and its vase
of roses. I'm not going to say good-by at this distance." He removed
the stand, and seating himself by her side, he drew her head down
upon his shoulder and kissed her again and again. "There now," he
continued, "you look perfectly lovely. Kisses are a part of the tonic
treatment you need, and I wish I were going to be here to give them.
Why, you queer little woman! I did not know you had so much blood in
your body."

"It's--it's because I'm not strong," she said, struggling for release.
Suddenly she became still, her face took on almost the hue of death,
and he saw that she was unconscious.

In terrible alarm he laid her hastily on the lounge, and rushed for
Mrs. Muir