however, than he
knew; with a stifled groan he fell back once more in a swoon, and it was
many hours before they were able to restore him.

After that, fever set in, and a shadow as of death fell on the house
in Guilford Terrace. Doctors came and went; Brian almost lived with
his patient; friends Raeburn had hosts of them came with help of every
description. The gloomy little alley admitted every day crowds of
inquirers, who came to the door, read the bulletin, glanced up at the
windows, and went away looking graver than when they came.

Erica lost count of time altogether. The past seemed blotted out; the
weight of the present was so great that she would not admit any thought
of the future, though conscious always of a blank dread which she
dared not pause to analyze, sufficient indeed for her day was the evil
thereof. She struggled on somehow with a sort of despairing strength;
only once or twice did she even recollect the outside world.

It happened that on the first Wednesday after the Hyde Park meeting
some one mentioned the day of the week in her hearing. She was in the
sick-room at the time, but at once remembered that her week's work was
untouched, that she had not written a line for the "Idol-Breaker." Every
idea seemed to have gone out of her head; for a minute she felt that to
save her life she could not write a line. But still she conscientiously
struggled to remember what subject had been allotted her, and in the
temporary stillness of the first night-watch drew writing materials
toward her, and leaned her head on her hands until, almost by an effort
of will, she at length recalled the theme for her article.

Of course! It was to be that disgraceful disturbance in the church at
Z______. She remembered the whole affair now, it all rose up before her
graphically not a bad subject at all! Their party might make a good deal
by it. Her article must be bright, descriptive, sarcastic. Yet how
was she to write such an article when her heart felt like lead? An
involuntary "I can't" rose to her lips, and she glanced at her father's
motionless form, her eyes filling with tears. Then one of his sayings
came to her mind: "No such word as 'Can't' in the dictionary," and began
to write rapidly almost defiantly. No sooner had she begun than her very
exhaustion, the lateness of the hour, and the stress of circumstance
came to her aid she had never before written so brilliantly.

The humor of the scene struck her; little