After days of anxiety the fever reached its height, and there was not a more anxious heart in the house that day than Dexie's own.
As she went about her daily household duties, she mentally pictured to herself what might happen in case of the worst. Would she be blamed for his death? and what would become of all Hugh's money?
She speculated as to how he had willed it, and wondered what were the contents of the letter Hugh had written to her father before that afternoon's sail. She hoped she would not be summoned again to the sick-room. But she was not to have that wish, for late in the evening Lancy came in to bring her over at once.
"The doctor says the next hour will decide whether he lives or not, and he wants you to be near in case you are needed in a hurry."
Towards midnight Hugh opened his eyes and recognized Mrs. Gurney, who was bending over him; and as he turned his face and saw the doctor also, he said, in a faint voice:
"What is the matter? Why am I here?"
"You have been sick, Hugh," said Mrs. Gurney, taking his hand; "do not talk."
"But I thought—I thought—I was in a boat," he said, faintly, and a puzzled look came over his face. "I was looking—for someone—or I was dreaming."
"You must not talk; try not to think itself," said the doctor, as he held some medicine to his lips. "You have been dreaming, no doubt; but try not to think about it any more."
Hugh was quiet for some minutes; memory was slowly returning; but at last the past all came back, and, casting an imploring glance into the doctor's face, said: