or; and Andrew, seeing how
faint she was, came to meet her, and led her to the carriage. The ten days
of watching had told upon her; and when she reached home, and Nellie
brought her wrapper and unlaced her shoes, she fell back on her lounge in a
heavy, deathlike sleep. Mr. Huntingdon had been expected two days before,
but failed to arrive at the time designated; and having her fears fully
aroused, Nellie despatched a messenger for Dr. Arnold.

CHAPTER XXIV

IRENE'S ILLNESS

"Do you see any change, Hiram?"

"None for the better."

Mr. Huntingdon dropped his head upon his hand again, and Dr. Arnold resumed
his slow walk up and down the carpet. The blue damask curtains had been
looped back from the western window, and the broad band of yellow belting
in the sky threw a mellow light over the bed where lay the unconscious
heiress of the grand old Hill. Fever rouged the polished cheeks usually
pure as alabaster, and touched the parted lips with deeper scarlet, lending
a brilliant and almost unearthly beauty to the sculptured features. Her
hair, partially escaping from confinement, straggled in crumpled rings and
folds across the pillow, a mass of golden netting; and the sparkling eyes
wandered from one object to another, as if in anxious search. The disease
had assumed a different type, and instead of raving paroxysms, her illness
was characterized by a silent, wakeful unconsciousness, while opiates
produced only the effect of increasing her restlessness. A week had passed
thus, during which time she had recognized no one; and though numerous lady
friends came to offer assistance, all were refused permission to see her.
Mr. Huntingdon was utterly ignorant of the duties of a nurse; and though he
haunted the room like an unlifting shadow, Dr. Arnold and Nellie took
entire charge of the patient. The former was unremitting in his care,
sitting beside the pillow through the long winter nights, and snatching a
few hours' sleep during the day. Watching her now, as he walked to and fro,
he noticed that her eyes followed him earnestly, and he paused at the
bedside and leaned over her.

"Irene, what do you want? Does my walking annoy you?"

No answer.

"Won't you shut your eyes, my darling, and try to sleep?"

The deep, brilliant eyes only looked into his with mocking intentness. He
put his fingers on the lids and pressed them gently down, but she
struggled, and turned away her face. Her hands crept constantly along