"Oh, Arethusa!" he moaned.
At the sound of his voice Mrs. Willoughby started, and rose to her feet. So great had been her anxiety and agitation that for some time she had not thought of another being in the room, and there had been no sound from him to suggest his existence. But now his voice startled her. She gave no answer, however.
"Arethusa!" repeated Dacres, gently and longingly and tenderly.
"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby; "he's dreaming."
"Arethusa! oh, Arethusa!" said Dacres once more. "Do not keep away. Come to me. I am calm now."
"Poor fellow!" thought Mrs. Willoughby. "He doesn't seem to be asleep. He's talking to me. I really think he is."
"Arethusa," said Dacres again, "will you answer me one question?"
Mrs. Willoughby hesitated for a moment, but now perceived that Dacres was really speaking to her. "He's in delirium," she thought. "Poor fellow, I must humor him, I suppose. But what a funny name to give me!"
So, after a little preparatory cough, Mrs. Willoughby said, in a low voice,
"What question?"