"Ah!" said Colville, doubtfully. "I wish that your potent art could insure me her love as skillfully as you insured me her life!"
The patient's deep slumber lasted till the rosy dawn of the summer morn began to break over the earth. Then the blue eyes opened with a look of bewilderment in their beautiful depths.
"Where am I?" she languidly interrogated, sweeping her small white hand across her brow.
Colville had gone, but the unwearied physician sitting by the bedside answered, calmly:
"You are in good hands, Miss Lawrence. I am your physician. You have been very ill, and must not agitate yourself by asking questions yet."
[CHAPTER V.]
"You say I have been very ill?" said Lily, looking up into the dark face bending over her.
"Yes, you have been near to death's door; but indeed you must not talk; you will exhaust yourself."
"But I must talk," said the patient, willfully. "Why am I here? This is not my home," glancing round the poor, ill-furnished room. "Where are my father, my sister, my maid? Oh, God!" and a piercing shriek burst from her lips. "I remember everything—the murderous dagger-thrust, the horrid spell that bound me hand and foot and tongue. I could not speak, I could not move; but I heard them weeping round me; I heard——"