'Good-night,' she returned, drowsily. 'Don't trouble about me, Cardie;' and with that he was fain to retire.
Things continued in much the same state for days. Dr. Heriot's opinion of the nature of the disease was fully confirmed. There was no abatement of fever, but an increase of debility. Olive's delirium was never violent—it was rather a restlessness and confusion of thought; she lay for hours in a semi-somnolent state, half-muttering to herself, yet without distinct articulation. Now and then a question would rouse her, and she would give a rational answer; but she soon fell back into the old drowsy state again.
Her nights were especially troubled in this respect. In the day she was comparatively quiet; but for many successive nights all natural sleep departed from her, and her confused and incoherent talk was very painful to hear.
Mildred fancied that Richard's presence made her more restless than at other times; but when she hinted this, he looked so pained that she could not find it in her heart to banish him, especially as his ready strength and assistance were a great comfort to her. Mildred had refused all exterior help. Nan's watchful care was always available during her hours of necessary repose, and Mildred had been so well trained in the school of nursing, that a few hours' sound sleep would send her back to her post rested and refreshed. Dr. Heriot's admiration of his model nurse, as he called her, was genuine and loudly expressed; and he often assured Mr. Lambert, when unfavourable symptoms set in, that if Olive recovered it would be mainly owing to her aunt's unwearied nursing.
Mildred often wondered what she would have done without Richard, as Olive grew weaker, and the slightest exertion brought on fainting, or covered her with a cold, clammy sweat. Richard's strong arms were of use now to lift her into easier positions. Mildred never suffered him to share in the night watches, for which she and Nan were all-sufficient; but the last thing at night, and often before the early dawn, his pale anxious face would be seen outside the door; and all through the day he was ever at hand to render valuable assistance. Once Mildred was surprised to hear her name softly called from the far end of the lobby, and on going out she found herself face to face with Ethel Trelawny.
'Oh, Ethel! this is very wrong. Your father——'
'I told her so,' returned Richard, who looked half grateful and half uneasy; 'but she would come—she said she must see you. Aunt Milly looks pale,' he continued, turning to Ethel; 'but we cannot be surprised at that—she gets so little sleep.'
'You will be worn out, Mildred. Papa will be angry, I know; but I cannot help it. I mean to stay and nurse Olive.'
'My dear Ethel!' Richard uttered an incredulous exclamation; but Miss Trelawny was evidently in earnest; her fine countenance looked pale and saddened.
'I can and must; do let me, Mildred. I have often stayed up all night for my own pleasure.'