.

Althea was sure of the best attention while Mrs. Moffat waited on her;
and this capable person scarcely left her bedside. Kitty Brett was _her_
right hand, as she herself was Althea's. Kitty was kept upon a steady
march, here, there, and everywhere; and she was as willing as was her
superior. She could not do enough for one who had been persecuted for
the faith.

The master of the house kept a steady watch over all. His argus-eye was
ever on the alert lest, despite his vigilance, the Catholic priest
should be smuggled into the house.

Althea was constantly delirious, and it was feared she might die without
having recovered her reason. The crisis approached, and Dr. Hardy
watched her silently for many hours. He had done his utmost, and though
he hoped faintly he feared the worst. Mrs. Moffat's whispered loquacity
was awed into silence. Kitty wept silently at the foot of the bed,
praying fervently as she wept. Thornton had walked to and fro in his
slippers, his long hands crossed upon each other behind his back,
casting out occasionally fierce glances from his cavernous brows. He
came and stood, like a thundercloud, by the Doctor's side.

"Any change?" he whispered.

The doctor shook his head.

"What do you think, any chance?"

The doctor looked at his watch, which he had been holding in his hand.
"Yes, while she breathes there's a chance, I suppose," replied the
doctor, without looking up, but changing uneasily his position.

"Well, I have an awful headache; I will lie down in the next room; if
she is worse, you can call me," and the cloud disappeared.

Althea had been some time sleeping quietly, neither articulating nor
moaning. Dr. Hardy watched her as only doctors watch their patients. It
was more to him than a question of life and death--it was somewhat like
the alchemist, trembling with hope and fear over his costly dissolvents.

At length, Althea's eyes opened, glanced hastily around and closed
again. Dr. Hardy was not surprised. For the last half hour he had been
expecting this, but he had given no sign. When her eyes again opened, he
put some drops to her lips, which she readily swallowed. By-and-bye she
gave a look of thorough consciousness, accompanied with an effort to
speak.

Again, in an hour, she looked earnestly at Dr. Hardy, and moved her
lips. He bent low to listen, and only himself caught her words: "Send
for the priest."

Dr. Hardy frowned. Was this old anxiety going yet to ruin all?