"I have but done my duty. It has been a horrible time. I am glad you have come. You will not let Clara die."
"Sit down, child. You are trembling from exhaustion."
He drew up a chair for her, and, taking her wrist in his hand, said, as he examined the slow pulse:
"Was Clara taken violently? How is she?"
"She is delirious, and so much alarmed at her danger that I feel very uneasy about her. Come and see her; perhaps she will know you." She led the way to the bedside; but there was no recognition in the wild, restless eyes, and as she tossed from side to side, her incoherent muttering made Beulah dread lest she should discover to its object the adoring love which filled her pure heart. She told her guardian what had been prescribed. He offered no suggestion as to the treatment, but gave a potion which she informed him was due. As Clara swallowed the draught, she looked at him, and said eagerly:
"Has he come? Did he say he would see me and save me? Did Dr.
Hartwell send me this?"
"She raves," said Beulah hastily.
A shadow fell upon his face, and, stooping over the pillow, he answered very gently:
"Yes; he has come to save you. He is here."
She smiled, and seemed satisfied for a moment; then moaned and muttered on indistinctly.