here he would lie for
hours together, not speaking a word, except to ask for drink.

Sometimes Christian crept in unnoticed, and sat watching, with her arms
tightly folded across her breast. At night, after Greta was asleep,
she would toss from side to side, muttering feverish prayers. She spent
hours at her little table in the schoolroom, writing letters to Harz
that were never sent. Once she wrote these words: "I am the most wicked
of all creatures--I have even wished that he may die!" A few minutes
afterwards Miss Naylor found her with her head buried on her arms.
Christian sprang up; tears were streaming down her cheeks. "Don't touch
me!" she cried, and rushed away. Later, she stole into her uncle's
room, and sank down on the floor beside the bed. She sat there silently,
unnoticed all the evening. When night came she could hardly be persuaded
to leave the room.

One day Mr. Treffry expressed a wish to see Herr Paul; it was a long
while before the latter could summon courage to go in.

"There's a few dozen of the Gordon sherry at my Chambers, in London,
Paul," Mr. Treffry said; "I'd be glad to think you had 'em. And my man,
Dominique, I've made him all right in my will, but keep your eye on him;
he's a good sort for a foreigner, and no chicken, but sooner or later,
the women'll get hold of him. That's all I had to say. Send Chris to
me."

Herr Paul stood by the bedside speechless. Suddenly he blurted out.

"Ah! my dear! Courage! We are all mortal. You will get well!" All the
morning he walked about quite inconsolable. "It was frightful to see
him, you know, frightful! An iron man could not have borne it."

When Christian came to him, Mr. Treffry raised himself and looked at her
a long while.

His wistful face was like an accusation. But that very afternoon the
news came from the sickroom that he was better, having had no pain for
several hours.

Every one went about with smiles lurking in their eyes, and ready to
break forth at a word. In the kitchen Barbi burst out crying, and,
forgetting to toss the pan, spoiled a Kaiser-Schmarn she was making.
Dominique was observed draining a glass of Chianti, and solemnly casting
forth the last drops in libation. An order was given for tea to be
taken out under the acacias, where it was always cool; it was felt that
something in the nature of high festival was being held. Even Herr Paul
was present; but Christian did not come. Nobody spoke of illness; to
mention it mig