"Don't you see the change? He is better!—the crisis is past!"
But she did not speak; her looks were riveted on his softly-unclosing eyes, which met hers as they opened languidly. She could not stir or speak. She was held fast by that gaze of his, in which a faint recognition dawned, and grew to strength.
He murmured some words. They strained their sense to hear. He repeated them even lower than before; but this time they caught what he was saying.
"Where are the water-lilies? Where are the lilies in her hair?"
Mr Davis drew Ruth away.
"He is still rambling," said he, "but the fever has left him."
The grey dawn was now filling the room with its cold light; was it that made Ruth's cheek so deadly pale? Could that call out the wild entreaty of her look, as if imploring help against some cruel foe that held her fast, and was wrestling with her Spirit of Life? She held Mr Davis's arm. If she had let it go, she would have fallen.
"Take me home," she said, and fainted dead away.
Mr Davis carried her out of the chamber, and sent the groom to keep watch by his master. He ordered a fly to convey her to Mr Benson's, and lifted her in when it came, for she was still half unconscious. It was he who carried her upstairs to her room, where Miss Benson and Sally undressed and laid her in her bed.
He awaited their proceedings in Mr Benson's study. When Mr Benson came in, Mr Davis said: