once more silent.

For more than an hour after this he was so absolutely still that Bianca
rose continually to look at him. Each time, his eyes, wide open, were
fixed on a little dark mark across the ceiling; his face had a look
of the most singular determination, as though his spirit were slowly,
relentlessly, regaining mastery over his fevered body. He spoke
suddenly:

"Who is there?"

"Bianca."

"Help me out of bed!"

The flush had left his face, the brilliance had faded from his eyes; he
looked just like a ghost. With a sort of terror Bianca helped him out of
bed. This weird display of mute white will-power was unearthly.

When he was dressed in his woollen gown and seated before the fire, she
gave him a cup of strong beef-tea, with brandy. He swallowed it with
great avidity.

"I should like some more of that," he said, and fell asleep.

While he was asleep Cecilia came, and the two sisters watched his
slumber, and, watching it, felt nearer to each other than they had for
many years. Before she went away Cecilia whispered--

"B. if he seems to want that little girl while he's like this, don't you