least delay."

"But, an interview, my lady, may be at this moment as much as his life
is worth; he is not out of danger."

"Well, then, I will not ask an interview. Only let me see him--let his
mother's eyes rest upon him. Let me steal a look--a look; let me steal
but one look, and I am sure, dear Charles, you will not gainsay this
little theft of the mother's heart. But, ah," she suddenly exclaimed,
"what am I doing? Ungrateful and selfish that I am, to forget my first
duty! Pardon me a few moments; I will return soon."

She passed into the back drawing-room, where, although the doors were
folded, he could hear this truly pious woman pouring forth with tears
her gratitude to God. In a few minutes she reappeared; and such were
the arguments she used, that he felt it impossible to prevent her from
gratifying this natural and absorbing impulse of the heart.

On reaching the hotel, they found, after inquiring, that he was asleep,
a circumstance which greatly pleased the stranger, as he doubted very
much whether Fenton would have been strong enough, either in mind or
body, to bear such an interview as must have taken place between them.

The unhappy young man was, as we have said, sound asleep. His face was
pale and wan, but a febrile hue had tinged his countenance with a color
which, although it concealed his danger, was not sufficient to remove
from it the mournful expression of all he had suffered. Yet the stranger
thought that he never had seen him look so well. His face was indeed a
fair but melancholy page of human life. The brows were slightly knit,
as if indicative of suffering; and there passed over his features, as he
lay, such varying expressions as we may presume corresponded with some
painful dream, by which, as far as one could judge, he seemed to be
influenced. Sometimes he looked like one that endured pain, sometimes
as if he felt terror; and occasionally a gleam of pleasure or joy would
faintly light up his handsome but wasted countenance.

Lady Gourlay, whilst she looked upon him, was obliged to be supported
by the stranger, who had much difficulty in restraining her grief within
due bounds. As for the tears, they fell from her eyes in showers.

"I must really remove you, my lady," he said, in a whisper; "his
recovery, his very life, may depend upon the soundness of this sleep.
You see yourself, now, the state he is in; and who living has such an
interest in his restoration to health as you have?"