nurse during the day, and she prepared herself for the first ordeal of
actual experience of Dorn's peculiar madness. But Dorn watched her many
hours and would not or could not sleep while she was there; and the
tenth day of his stay at "Many Waters" passed without her seeing what
she dreaded. Meanwhile he grew perceptibly better.

The afternoon came when Anderson brought a minister. Then a few moments
sufficed to make Lenore Dorn's wife.

CHAPTER XXXI

The remarkable happened. Scarcely had the minister left when Kurt Dorn's
smiling wonder and happiness sustained a break, as sharp and cold and
terrible as if nature had transformed him from man to beast.

His face became like that of a gorilla. Struggling up, he swept his
right arm over and outward with singular twisting energy. A
bayonet-thrust! And for him his left arm was still intact! A savage,
unintelligible battle-cry, yet unmistakably German, escaped his lips.

Lenore stood one instant petrified. Her father, grinding his teeth,
attempted to lead her away. But as Dorn was about to pitch off the bed,
Lenore, with piercing cry, ran to catch him and force him back. There
she held him, subdued his struggles, and kept calling with that
intensity of power and spirit which must have penetrated even his
delirium. Whatever influence she exerted, it quieted him, changed his
savage face, until he relaxed and lay back passive and pale. It was
possible to tell exactly when his reason returned, for it showed in the
gaze he fixed upon Lenore.

"I had--one--of my fits!" he said, huskily.

"Oh--I don't know what it was," replied Lenore, with quavering voice.
Her strength began to leave her now. Her arms that had held him so
firmly began to slip away.

"Son, you had a bad spell," interposed Anderson, with his heavy
breathing. "First one she's seen."

"Lenore, I laid out my Huns again," said Dorn, with a tragic smile.
"Lately I could tell when--they were coming back."

"Did you know just now?" queried Lenore.

"I think so. I wasn't really out of my head. I've known when I did that.
It's a strange feeling--thought--memory ... and action drives it away.
Then I seem always to _want_ to--kill my Huns all over again."

Lenore gazed at him with mournful and passionate tenderness. "Do you
remember that we were just married?" she asked.

"My wife!" he whispered.

"Husband!... I knew you were coming home to me.... I knew you would not
die.... I know you will get well."