his position,
the shame of his profession, moral death indeed, almost as frightful as
if he had been hanged for murder. She shivered as she sat by him, veiled
by the curtain, and thought of her grandfather's vindictive fierceness;
only she stood between him and destruction, and Phoebe felt that it was
by no legitimate means that she was doing so, not by her influence over
her grandfather as she had hoped, but only by an unjustifiable expedient
which in itself was a kind of crime. This, however, brought a slight
smile on her face. She took out her little purse from her pocket, and
looked at the bit of paper carefully folded in it. The faint perfume of
the Russia leather had already communicated itself to the document,
which had not been so pleasant in Tozer's hands. As she looked at it
lying peacefully on her lap, her attention was suddenly called by the
patient, who sat upright and looked furtively about him, with his hand
upon the coverings ready to throw them off. His ghastly white face
peered at her from behind the curtain with wild eagerness--then relaxed,
when he met her eye, into a kind of idiot smile, a painful attempt to
divert suspicion, and he fell back again with a groan. The trance that
had stupefied him was over; he had recovered some kind of consciousness,
how much or how little she could not tell. His mind now seemed to be set
upon hiding himself, drawing his coverings over him, and concealing
himself with the curtain, at which he grasped with an excess of force
which neutralized itself.

"Mr. May," said Phoebe, softly. "Mr. May! do you know me?"

She could not tell what answer he made, or if he made any answer. He
crouched down under the bed-clothes, pulling them over his face, trying
to hide himself from her; from which she divined that he did recognize
her, confused though his faculties were. Then a hoarse murmuring sound
seemed to come out of the pillow. It was some time before she could make
out what it was.

"Where am I?" he said.

With the lightning speed of sympathy and pity, Phoebe divined what his
terror was. She said, almost whispering,

"At home, in your own bed--at home! and safe. Oh, don't you know me--I
am Phoebe." Then after a pause, "Tozer's granddaughter; do you know me
now?"

The strange, scared, white-faced spectre shrank under his covering, till
she could see no more of him except two wild eyes full of terror which
was almost madness.

"Listen!" she said eagerly, "try to und