e been, I owe him a debt of
gratitude." So saying, he walked hastily away toward Mr. Middleton's,
where he was met by alarmed faces, soft footsteps, and subdued whispers.
In reply to his inquiries, he was told by Aunt Judy, that "somehow or
'nother, Miss Julia had got wind of Mr. Dunn's death, and it had gone to
her head, makin' her ravin' mad, and the doctor said she wouldn't get
well."

Aunt Judy was right; Julia had accidently heard of Mr. Dunn's death, and
it added greatly to the nervous excitement which she was already
suffering, and when Dr. Gordon came he was surprised to find the dangerous
symptoms of his patient increased to an alarming extent. The fever had
settled upon her brain, and for many days she lay at the very gates of
death.

Incessantly she talked of Dr. Lacey, Fanny and Mr. Wilmot, the latter of
whom, in her disordered imagination, was constantly pursuing her. "Go
back--go back to your grave," she would say; "there are tears enough shed
for you, but none will fall for me when I am dead. He will laugh and be
glad, and the first moon that shines on my grave will light the marriage
train to the altar." Then, as if the phantom still were near her, she
would cry out, "Take him away, I tell you! What have I to do with coffins,
and white faces, and broken hearts? I killed him, I know, and he loved me,
too, as no one else ever has, but I madly loved another, and now he hates
me, spurns me!" Then turning to Fanny she would say, "I broke your heart
too, and still pressed on when I saw it was killing you, but you forgave
me, and now you must plead with him, who loves the air you breathe, to
think compassionately of me. I do not ask him to love me, for I know that
is impossible; but he can, at least, forgive and forget the past."

Sometimes she would speak of her father, saying, "He will be glad when the
tempest is still and ceases to trouble him, for he never loved me, never
spoke to me as he did to Fanny. I know I did not deserve his love, but I
should have been better if he had given me a little, yes, just a little."

"God knows she speaks the truth," said Uncle Joshua, wiping away the tears
he was not ashamed to weep. "I have been mighty hard on her, but I never
s'posed she cared."

Such were the scenes which daily occurred in Julia's sick room until at
last, from utter exhaustion, she became still, and for many days she lay
in a dreamy kind of sleep.

"Will she live?" asked Mr. Middleton of Dr. Gordo