Then one night I awoke with a cry of terror and found myself sitting upright, bathed in chilly sweat, shouting that the Cayugas were abroad and that I must hold them back by the throat till Sir William could arrive and restrain them.
Lights soon moved into the room; I saw Doctor Pierson and Guy Johnson, but the dammed-up floods of memory had broken loose like an old wound, and the past came crowding upon me till I fell back on the pillows, convulsed and gasping, while the strong hands of the doctor began their silent work, tapping head and body, till somebody gave me a draught and I drowsed perdu.
Day broke—the bitterest day of life I was to know. I felt it, listening to the rain; I felt it, in the footsteps that passed my door—footsteps I did not know. Why was the house so silent? Why did all go about so quietly, dressed in black? Was there some one dead in the house below? Where was Silver Heels? Why had she never come to me? How came I here? Where was Jack Mount and Cade Renard? And Sir William, where was he that he came not near me—me who had lain sick unto death in his service and for his sake?
Dread numbed me; I strove to call, but my dumb lips froze; I strove to rise, and found my body wrecked in bed without power, without sense, a helpless, inert thing between two sheets.
Why was I here? Why was I alive if aught had harmed Silver Heels? God! And I safe here in bed? Where was she? Where was she? Dead? Why do they not tell me? Why do they not kill me as I lie here if I have returned without her?
I must have cried aloud in my agony, for the doctor came running and leaned over me.
"Tell me! Tell me!" I stammered. "Why don't you tell me?" and strove to strike him, but could not use my arms.
"Quiet, quiet," he said, watching me; "I will tell you what you wish to know. What is it then, my poor boy?"
"I—want—Felicity," I blurted out.
"Felicity?" he repeated, blankly. "Oh—Miss—ahem!—Miss Warren?"