"Fever! Why, sir, I have no fever," she replied, with some surprise.
"Oh, child! are you trying to destroy yourself by your obstinacy? If so, like most other things you undertake, I suppose you will succeed."
He held her hands and kept his finger on the quick bounding pulse. Beulah had not seen him since the night of Cornelia's death, some months before, and conjectured that Dr. Asbury had told him she was not looking well.
She could not bear the steady, searching gaze of his luminous eyes, and, moving restlessly, said:
"Sir, what induces you to suppose that I am sick? I have complained of indisposition to no one."
"Of course you have not, for people are to believe that you are a gutta-percha automaton."
She fancied his tone was slightly sneering; but his countenance wore the expression of anxious, protecting interest which she had so prized in days past, and, as her hands trembled in his clasp and his firm hold tightened, she felt that it was useless to attempt to conceal the truth longer.
"I didn't know I was feverish; but for some time I have daily grown weaker; I tremble when I stand or walk, and am not able to sleep. That is all."
He smiled down at her earnest face, and asked:
"Is that all, child? Is that all?"