rmured. "Are you out of your
stupor?"

"I suppose so," said Lord Chetwynde. "But I do not understand this. I
think I must be in Lausanne."

"Yes, you are in Lausanne, my lord, at the Hotel Gibbon."

"The Hotel Gibbon?" repeated Lord Chetwynde.

"Yes. Has your memory returned yet?"

"Only partially. I think I remember the journey here, but not very
well. I hardly know where I came from. It must have been Baden." And
he tried, but in vain, to recollect.

"You went from Frankfort to Baden, thence to Munich, and from Munich
you came here."

"Yes," said Lord Chetwynde, slowly, as he began to recollect. "You
are right. I begin to remember. But I have been ill, and I was ill at
all these places. How long have I been here?"

"Five weeks."

"Good God!" cried Lord Chetwynde. "Is it possible? I must have been
senseless all the time."

"Yes, this is the first time that you have come to your senses, my
lord."

"I can scarcely remember any thing."

"Will you take your medicine now, my lord?"

"My medicine?"

"Yes," said Hilda, sitting up and taking a vial from the table; "the
doctor ordered this to be given to you when you came out of your
stupor."

"Where is my nurse?" asked Lord Chetwynde, abruptly, after a short
but thoughtful silence.

"She is here, my lord. She wants to do your bidding. I am your
nurse."

"You!"

"Yes, my lord. And now--do not speak, but take your medicine," said
Hilda; and she poured out the mixture into a wine-glass and handed it
to him.

He took it mechanically, and without a word, and then his head fell
back, and he lay in silence for a long time, trying to recall his
scattered thoughts. While he thus lay Hilda reclined on the sofa in
perfect silence, motionless yet watchful, wondering what he was
thinking about, and waiting for him to speak. She did not venture to
interrupt him, although she perceived plainly that he was fully
awake. She chose rather to leave him to his own thoughts, and to rest
her fate upon the course which those thoughts might take. At last the
silence was broken.

"I have been very ill?" he said at last, inquiringly.

"Yes, my lord, very ill. You have been down to the very borders of
the grave."

"Yes, it must have been severe. I felt it coming on when I arrived in
France," he murmured; "I remember now. But how did you hear about
it?"

"Your valet telegraphed. He was frightened," said she, "and sent for
me."

"Ah?" said Lord Chetwynde.

Hilda said