t them, a kind of
natural free-masonry, which must not be made too common.

Dr. Vaudelier, when he saw that the patient was disposed to behave
himself in a reasonable manner, withdrew from the room, and left them to
the undisturbed enjoyment of their happy reunion. In an hour he
returned, and peremptorily forbade all further conversation. He
permitted Emily to remain in the room, however, on the promise to allow
the invalid to use no further exertion in talking.

All day, like a ministering angel, she moved about his couch, and laved
his fevered brow. All his art could not lure her into any conversation
beyond the necessary replies to his questions concerning his physical
condition. Henry was too thankful for being permitted to enjoy her
presence to forfeit the boon by any untractableness, and, for one of his
excitable temperament, he was exceedingly docile.

CHAPTER XX.

"_Appius_. Well, Claudius, are the forces
At hand?

"_Claudius_. They are, and timely, too; the people
Are in unwonted ferment."

KNOWLES.

It was midnight at Cottage Island,--the third night after the events of
the preceding chapter. Henry Carroll, by the skilful treatment of his
host, was in a great degree relieved from his severe pain, and had now
sunk into a natural and quiet slumber. By his bedside sat Dr. Vaudelier.
Emily had, an hour before, retired to the rest which her exhausted frame
demanded. For the past three days she had watched patiently and lovingly
by the invalid. And now she had only been induced to retire by the
promise of the doctor to call her, if any unfavorable symptom appeared.

The threatened assault upon the island had been thoroughly considered,
and for the past two nights the island wore the appearance of a
garrisoned fortress, rather than the secluded abode of a hermit. Emily
knew of the peril which now menaced her, but the ample means at hand for
protection rendered it insignificant. All thought, even of her own
security, was merged in her generous interest in the comfort of the
sufferer.

The good physician was uneasy and disturbed, as he sat by the bedside of
his patient. The circumstances which surrounded him were novel in the
extreme. Accustomed as he had been to the quiet which always reigned in
his domain, to find himself, as it were, the inmate of a fortress, in
momentary expectation of an attack, was so singularly odd, that his
natural indifference deserted him. He had c