. Thus
she thought that, when Lord Chetwynde came forth out of his
senselessness, she would be the first object that would meet his
gaze, and he would know that he had been saved from death by her.

Here, then, she took up her place by his bedside, and saw how every
day he grew better. Every day she herself regained her old strength,
and could at length walk about the room, though she was still thin
and feeble. So the time passed; and in this room the one who first
escaped from the jaws of death devoted herself to the task of
assisting the other.

At last, one morning as the sun rose, Lord Chetwynde waked. He looked
around the room. He lifted himself up on his elbow, and saw Hilda
asleep on the sofa near his bed. He felt bewildered at this strange
and unexpected figure. How did she get here? A dim remembrance of his
long sickness suggested itself, and he had a vague idea of this
figure attending upon him. But the ideas and remembrances were too
shadowy to be grasped. The room he remembered partially, for this was
the room in which he had sunk down into this last sickness at
Lausanne. But the sleeping form on the sofa puzzled him. He had seen
her last at Chetwynde. What was she doing here? He scanned her
narrowly, thinking that he might be mistaken from some chance
resemblance. A further examination, however, showed that he was
correct. Yes, this was "his wife," yet how changed! Pale as death was
that face; those features were thin and attenuated; the eyes were
closed; the hair hung in black masses round the marble brow; an
expression of sadness dwelt there; and in her fitful, broken slumber
she sighed heavily. He looked at her long and steadfastly, and then
sank wearily down upon the pillows, but still kept his eyes fixed
upon this woman whom he saw there. How did she get here? What was she
doing? What did it all mean? His remembrance could not supply him
with facts which might answer this question. He could not understand,
and so he lay there in bewilderment, making feeble conjectures.

When Hilda opened her eyes the first thing that she saw was the face
of Lord Chetwynde, whose eyes were fixed upon hers. She started and
looked confused; but amidst her confusion an expression of joy darted
across her face, which was evident and manifest to Lord Chetwynde. It
was joy--eager, vivid, and intense; joy mingled with surprise; and
her eyes at last rested on him with mute inquiry.

"Are you at last awake, my lord?" she mu