His soothing did not reach the disease. They could give her no assurance of Butler's safety; and on that point alone all her anguish turned. "My dear, dear father," she said, with a feeble and dejected voice, "how do you wrong me, by supposing I could harbor a sentiment that might cause me to doubt the love I bear you! I know and revere the purity of your nature, and need no assurance from you that your affection itself has kindled up this warmth of temper. But you have opened a fountain of bitterness upon my feelings," she added, sobbing vehemently, "in what you have divulged relating to a man you loathe, and one, dear father—take it from me now, as the expression of a sacred duty—one that I must ever love. Call it fate—call it infatuation; say that it does not befit my womanly reserve to avow it—but if misfortune and death have fallen upon the head of Arthur Butler, there is that bond between us, that I must die. Oh, father—"
As Mildred pronounced these words she had gradually raised herself into a sitting posture in her bed, and, at the conclusion, fell back exhausted upon her pillow. The enthusiasm, the violence and the intensity of her emotions had overborne her strength, and for some moments she lay incapable of speech.
"Mildred, Mildred! daughter!" exclaimed Lindsay, in alarm, "I forgive you, my child. Great heaven, if this should be too much for her sensitive nature, and she should die before my eyes! Dear Mildred," he said in a softer accent, as he kissed her pale forehead, "but look up, and never, never more will I oppose your wish."
"Father," she uttered, in a scarce audible whisper.
"Thank God, she revives! Forbear to speak, my love; that is enough. Do not exhaust your strength by another effort."
"Father!" she repeated in a firmer accent.
"There, there, my child," continued Lindsay, fanning the air before her face with his hand.
"Father," again uttered Mildred, "tell me of Arthur."
"He is safe, my love—and thou shalt yet be happy. Daughter—no more; compose yourself—nor attempt again to speak." And saying these words, Lindsay stole out of the chamber and summoned one of the domestics to administer a cordial to the exhausted patient; and then gave orders that she should be left to recruit her strength by sleep.
Mildred by degrees revived. Jaded by mental affliction, she had sunk into repose; and when another morning arrived, the lustre had returned to her eye, and her recovery was already well advanced. She did not yet venture from her chamber, but she was able to leave her bed and take the fresh air at her window.