"I have but done my duty. It has been a horrible time. I am glad you
have come. You will not let Clara die."
"Sit down, child. You are trembling from exhaustion."
He drew up a chair for her, and, taking her wrist in his hand, said,
as he examined the slow pulse: "Was Clara taken violently? How is she?"
"She is delirious, and so much alarmed at her danger that I feel
very uneasy about her. Come and see her; perhaps she will know you."
She led the way to the bedside; but there was no recognition in the
wild, restless eyes, and as she tossed from side to side, her
incoherent muttering made Beulah dread lest she should discover to
its object the adoring love which filled her pure heart. She told
her guardian what had been prescribed. He offered no suggestion as
to the treatment, but gave a potion which she informed him was due.
As Clara swallowed the draught, she looked at him, and said eagerly: "Has he come? Did he say he would see me and save me? Did Dr.
Hartwell send me this?"
"She raves," said Beulah hastily.
A shadow fell upon his face, and, stooping over the pillow, he
answered very gently: "Yes; he has come to save you. He is here."
She smiled, and seemed satisfied for a moment; then moaned and
muttered on indistinctly.
"He knows it all? Oh, poor, poor Clara!" thought Beulah. shading her
face to prevent his reading what passed in her mind.
"How long have you been sitting up, Beulah?"
She told him.
"It is no wonder you look as if years had suddenly passed over your
head! You have a room here, I believe. Go to it, and go to sleep; I
will not leave Clara."
It was astonishing how his presence removed the dread weight of
responsibility from her heart. Not until this moment had she felt as
if she could possibly sleep.
"I will sleep now, so as to be refreshed for to-morrow and to-morrow
night. Here is a couch; I will sleep here, and if Clara grows worse
you must wake me." She crossed the room, threw herself on the couch,
and laid her aching head on her arm. Dr. Hartwell placed a pillow
under the head; once more his fingers sought her wrist; once more
his lips touched her forehead, and as he returned to watch beside
Clara and listen to her ravings, Beulah sank into a heavy, dreamless
sleep of exhaustion.