to her; and Mary did not fear wakening her by a shoeless voyage of
discovery to the place whence Dr. May was visible.

He turned at once, and with his noiseless tread came to her. 'Asleep
still? So is he. All right. Here, waken me the moment he stirs.'

And rather by sign than word, he took Mary into the sickroom,
indicated a chair, and laid himself on a sofa, where he was
instantaneously sound asleep, before his startled daughter had quite
taken everything in; but she had only to glance at his haggard
wearied face, to be glad to be there, so as to afford him even a few
moments of vigorous slumber with all his might.

In some awe, she looked round, not venturing to stir hand or foot.
Her chair was in the full draught of the dewy morning breeze, so
chilly, that she drew her shawl tightly about her; but she knew that
this had been an instance of her father's care, and if she wished to
make the slightest move, it was only to secure a fuller view of the
patient, from whom she was half cut off by a curtain at the foot of
the bed. A sort of dread, however, made Mary gaze at everything
around her before she brought her eyes upon him--her father's watch
on the table, indicating ten minutes to four, the Minster Tower in
the rising sunlight--nay, the very furniture of the room, and Dr.
May's position, before she durst familiarize herself with Leonard's
appearance--he whom she had last seen as a sturdy, ruddy, healthful
boy, looking able to outweigh two of his friend Aubrey.

The original disease had long since passed into typhus, and the
scarlet eruption was gone, so that she only saw a yellow whiteness,
that, marked by the blue veins of the bared temples, was to her mind