up, in spite of the solicitations of the
nurse and Gretchen, and tottered toward the bed with unsteady steps,
supported by her attendants. Then she seated herself on the bedside,
and, asking for a spoon, she tried with a trembling hand to pour out
some of the mixture from the vial. Her hands shook so that she could
not. In despair she allowed the nurse to administer it, while
Gretchen supported her, seating herself behind her in such a way that
Hilda could lean against her, and still see the face of the sick man.
In this position she watched while the nurse put the liquid into Lord
Chetwynde's mouth, and saw him swallow it.

"My lady, you must lie down, or you will never get over this," said
the nurse, earnestly, and passing her arms around Hilda, she gently
drew her back to the sofa, assisted by Gretchen. Hilda allowed
herself to be moved back without a word. For the remainder of that
day she watched, lying on her sofa, and gave directions about the
regular administration of the medicine. At her request they drew the
sofa close up to the bedside of Lord Chetwynde, and propped her up
high with pillows. There she Iay weakly, with her face turned toward
him, and her hand clasping his.

Night came, and Hilda still watched. Fatigue and weakness were fast
overpowering her. Against these she struggled bravely, and lay with
her eyes fixed on Lord Chetwynde. In that sharp exercise of her
senses, which were all aroused in his behalf, she became at last
aware of the fact that they were getting beyond her control. Before
her eyes, as she gazed upon this man, there came other and different
visions. She saw another sick-bed, in a different room from this,
with another form stretched upon it--a form like this, yet unlike,
for it was older--a form with venerable gray hairs, with white,
emaciated face, and with eyes full of fear and entreaty. At that
sight horror came over her. She tried to rouse herself from the
fearful state into which she was drifting. She summoned up all that
remained of her physical and mental energy. The struggle was severe.
All things round her seemed to change incessantly into the semblances
of other things; the phantoms of a dead past--a dead but not a
forgotten past--crowded around her, and all the force of her will was
unavailing to repel them. She shuddered as she discovered the full
extent of her own weakness, and saw where she was drifting. For she
was drifting helplessly into the realm of shadowy memo