ught in his arms her insensible form.

CHAPTER XI.

_In Which Ferdinand Begins to Be a Little Troublesome_.

FROM the moment of this happy slumber Ferdinand continued to improve.
Each day the bulletin was more favourable, until his progress, though
slow, was declared certain, and even relapse was no longer apprehended.
But his physician would not allow him to see any one of his family. It
was at night, and during his slumbers, that Lady Armine stole into his
room to gaze upon her beloved child; and, if he moved in the slightest
degree, faithful to her promise and the injunction of the physician, she
instantly glided behind his curtain, or a large Indian screen which she
had placed there purposely. Often, indeed, did she remain in this fond
lurking-place, silent and trembling, when her child was even awake,
listening to every breath, and envying the nurse that might gaze on him
undisturbed; nor would she allow any sustenance that he was ordered
to be prepared by any but her own fair, fond hands; and she brought it
herself even to his door. For Ferdinand himself, though his replies to
the physician sufficiently attested the healthy calmness of his mind, he
indeed otherwise never spoke, but lay on his bed without repining,
and seemingly plunged in mild and pensive abstraction. At length, one
morning he enquired for Glastonbury, who, with the sanction of the
physician, immediately attended him.

When he met the eye of that faithful friend he tried to extend his hand.
It was so wan that Glastonbury trembled while he touched it.

'I have given you much trouble,' he said, in a faint voice.

'I think only of the happiness of your recovery,' said Glastonbury.

'Yes, I am recovered,' murmured Ferdinand; 'it was not my wish.'

'Oh! be grateful to God for this great mercy, my Ferdinand.'

'You have heard nothing?' enquired Ferdinand.

Glastonbury shook his head.

'Fear not to speak; I can struggle no more. I am resigned. I am very
much changed.'

'You will be happy, dear Ferdinand,' said Glastonbury, to whom this mood
gave hopes.

'Never,' he said, in a more energetic tone; 'never.'

'There are so many that love you,' said Glastonbury, leading his
thoughts to his family.

'Love!' exclaimed Ferdinand, with a sigh, and in a tone almost
reproachful.

'Your dear mother,' said Glastonbury.

'Yes! my dear mother,' replied Ferdinand, musingly. Then in a quicker
tone, 'Does she know of my illness? Did you wr