“Oh, Fred, Fred, my own brother!” she cried, as she sank upon her knees by the bedside and pressed her lips to the thin white hand lying outside the sheet.
“Laury,” he said, feebly; “you, dear? Wasn’t that Bel?”
“Yes, yes; but you must not talk. Oh, thank God! thank God, you know us once again!”
“Know you?” he said, smiling, “of course. Where’s aunt?”
“Downstairs, dear, asleep. She is so worn-out with watching you.”
“Watching me?” he said, with a little child-like laugh. “Yes, of course, she is always watching.”
He gently raised his hand, to place it upon his sister’s head, and it lay there passive for some time, till Laura realised that her brother was fast asleep; and then she stole away to join Isabel in the next room.
The next day Chester was a little stronger, but it was as if his mind was passing through the early stages once more, he was so child-like and weak; and it was not until the third day of his recovering his senses after the terrible brain fever through which he had passed that he remembered Isabel again, and asked if he had not seen her there.
Laura told him yes, that she had been there, and he asked no more; but as the days went on he learned all. That his sister had returned to town with his aunt and written to the servant from their hotel to pack up the clothes and books they had left behind, and received an answer back that Chester was dying of brain fever.
This brought sister and aunt to his side, to find that Isabel had been with him from the first, watching him night and day. Then they shared the task with her, till the first rays of reason began to shine out of his eyes.