"'Good news! she is gone! I told her you had lost your passport, and would have to get another from our minister.'
"'What!' I exclaimed, 'you lied to her?'
"'Oh! there was no other way!' said Joseph, ingenuously,--'she is so sharp! They're to wait for you at Marseilles. But I'll manage that, too. On their arrival at the Hotel d'Orient, they'll find a telegraphic dispatch from me. I wager a hat, they'll leave in the first steamer for Naples. Then you can follow at your leisure.'
"'Thank you, Joseph.'
"I felt relieved. Then came a reaction. The next day I was attacked by fever. I know not how long I struggled against it, but it mastered me. The last things I remember were the visits of friends, the strange talk of a French physician, whispers and consultations, which I knew were about me, yet took no interest in,--and at length Joseph rushing to my bedside, in a flutter of agitation, and gasping,--
"'Flora!'
"'What of Flora?' I demanded.
"'I telegraphed, but she wouldn't go; she has come back; she is here!'
"I was sinking back into the stupor from which I had been roused, when I heard a rustling which seemed afar off, yet was in my chamber; then a vision appeared to my sickened sight,--a face which I dimly thought I had seen before,--a flood of curls and a rain of kisses showering upon me,--sobs and devouring caresses,--Flora's voice calling me passionate names; and I lying so passive, faintly struggling to remember, until my soul sank whirling in darkness, and I knew no more.
"One morning, I cannot tell you how long after, I awoke and found myself in a strange-looking room, filled with strange objects, not the least strange of which was the thing that seemed myself. At first I looked with vague and motionless curiosity out of the Lethe from which my mind slowly emerged; painless, and at peace; listlessly questioning whether I was alive or dead,--whether the limp weight lying in bed there was my body,--the meaning of the silence and the closed curtains. Then, with a succession of painful flashes, as if the pole of an electrical battery had been applied to my brain, memory returned,--Margaret, Flora, Paris, delirium. I next remember hearing myself groan aloud,--then seeing Joseph at my side. I tried to speak, but could not. Upon my pillow was a glove, and he placed it against my cheek. An indescribable, excruciating thrill shot through me; still I could not speak. After that, came a relapse. Like Mrs. Browning's poet, I lay