him out of the room.

"Hum! I am not so sure; her pulse is weak and quick, and for some reason
she is extremely excited. What is she sitting up in bed for? she ought
to have been in the land of dreams a long time ago."

"Don't you know, Dr. Harvey; didn't we tell you, my niece, Mrs.
Quentyns, is expected to-night? and Judy is sitting up to see her."

"Suspense is very bad for my little patient. What time is Mrs. Quentyns
expected to arrive?"

"About ten. Judy is especially attached to her sister, and if I had
insisted on her trying to go to sleep, she would have tossed about and
worked herself into a fever."

"She is very nearly in one now, and I don't particularly like the look
of excitement in her eyes. I hope Mrs. Quentyns will be punctual. As
soon as ever she comes, the child must settle to sleep. Give her a dose
of that bromide mixture immediately after. I'll come and see her the
first thing in the morning."

CHAPTER XI.

HUSBAND AND WIFE.

But she is far away
Now; nor the hours of night, grown hoar,
Bring, yet to me, long gazing, from the door,
The wind-stirred robe of roseate gray,
And rose-cream of the hour that leads the day,
When we shall meet once more.

--D. G. ROSSETTI.

Hilda Quentyns, Judy's idol, was not the strongest of characters. She
was very sweet and amiable, intensely true and affectionate to those to
whom she gave her heart, but she was somewhat timorous and somewhat
easily led.

Long ago, when Babs was a baby, Hilda's mother had died. Since then Judy
had been her special care.

Now with trembling hands she packed her portmanteau, gave the young cook
and parlor-maid directions what to do in her absence, and then sitting
down before her davenport, prepared to write an explanatory letter to
her husband.

She thought it quite probable that Jasper would be angry with her for
rushing off like this, but for once she intended to brave his
displeasure.

In her heart of hearts she knew exactly the state Judy was in. The
ardent soul was wearing out the delicate little frame. That suffering
which Judy would not speak of, which she was too brave to show sign or
whisper of, was making her body ill. If Hilda went to her darling, the
suffering would cease. Love would shine all round Judy's starved heart,
and she would soon be well and strong again.

"Yes, it is my manifest duty to go to her," whispered the wife to
herself. "I w