erstand! Oh, Mr. May, try to
understand! I know about it--I know everything, and you are safe--quite
safe; you need not have any fear!"

He did not follow what she said, Phoebe perceived with pain and terror.
Even the impression made by the first sight of her seemed to fade from
his mind. His grasp relaxed upon the curtains and coverlet; and then the
hoarse murmuring was resumed. Straining all her ears, she made out that
he was not speaking to her or any one, but moaned to himself, saying the
same words over and over again. It took her a long time to make out even
what these words were. When at last she did make them out they filled
the girl with an alarm beyond words.

"It used to be hanging," he said. "Hard labour; can I bear hard labour?
And the children--the children! Hard labour--for life. Hanging--was soon
over. The children! I cannot bear it. I never was put to--hard
labour--in all my life."

Phoebe was too sick at heart to listen to more. She drew a little apart,
but near enough to be seen by him. If he chose to spring up, to fling
himself from the window, as she had heard of men doing in delirium, who
could restrain him? Not she, a slight girl, nor Betsy, even if Betsy
could be roused to the danger. She did not know how long the vigil which
followed lasted, but it seemed like years to her; and when at last she
was relieved by the joyful sound of Reginald's voice and footstep coming
up the stairs, she felt disposed to run to the glass at once, and look
if her hair had grown white, or her countenance permanently changed with
the terror. Reginald, for his part, thought of his father in the second
place only, as children are apt to do; he came up to her first, and
with a thrill in his voice of surprise and emotion, addressed her
hastily by her name.

"Phoebe! is it _you_ who are watching--you, darling?"

"Hush! I sent Ursula to bed; she was so tired. Don't leave him. I am
frightened," cried Phoebe. "He is wandering in his mind. Oh, don't leave
him, Mr. May!"

"I will do exactly as you tell me," said Reginald, in a confused
transport of feeling, the very anxiety in his mind helping to destroy
his self-control. He stooped down and kissed her hands before she could
divine what he was about to do. "Only you or an angel would have done
it," he cried, with a tremulous voice.

Was it not natural that he should think that some thought of him had
made Phoebe so careful of his father? His heart was swelling, too full