ene in the general courtesy of the welcome.

"He 's no better, your honor,--no better at all," said the man, as
Harcourt drew nigh the sick bed. "He does be always ravin',--ravin'
on,--beggin' and implorin' that we won't take him back to the Castle;
and if he falls asleep, the first thing he says when he wakes up is,
'Where am I?--tell me I'm not at Glencore!' and he keeps on screechin',
'Tell me, tell me so!'"

Harcourt bent down over the bed and gazed at him. Slowly and languidly
the sick boy raised his heavy lids and returned the stare.

"You know me, Charley, boy, don't you?" said he, softly.

"Yes," muttered he, in a weak tone.

"Who am I, Charley? Tell me who is speaking to you."

"Yes," said he again.

"Poor fellow!" Bighed Harcourt, "he does _not_ know me!"

"Where's the pain?" asked Billy, suddenly.

The boy placed his hand on his forehead, and then on his temples.

"Look up! look at _me!_" said Billy. "Ay, there it is! the pupil does
not contract,--there's mischief in the brain. He wants to say something
to you, sir," said he to Harcourt; "he's makin' signs to you to stoop
down."

Harcourt put his ear close to the sick boy's lips, and listened.

"No, my dear child, of course not," said he, after a pause. "You shall
remain here, and I will stay with you too. In a few days your father
will come--"

A wild yell, a shriek that made the cabin ring, now broke from the boy,
followed by another, and then a third; and then with a spring he arose
from the bed, and tried to escape. Weak and exhausted as he was, such
was the strength supplied by fever, it was all that they could do to
subdue him and replace him in the bed; violent convulsions followed this
severe access, and it was not till after hours of intense suffering that
he calmed down again and seemed to slumber.

"There's more than we know of here, Colonel," said Billy, as he drew him
to one side. "There's moral causes as well as malady at work."

"There may be, but I know nothing of them," said Harcourt; and in the
frank air of the speaker the other did not hesitate to repose his trust.

"If we hope to save him, we ought to find out where the mischief lies,"
said Billy; "for, if ye remark, his ravin' is always upon one subject;
he never wanders from that."

"He has a dread of home. Some altercation with his father has,
doubtless, impressed him with this notion."

"Ah, that isn't enough, we must go 'deeper; we want a clew to the part
of the