The dreaded day came and passed, and Charles Fairfield was not dead, but better. The fever was abating, but never did the vital spark burn lower in living man. Seeing that life was so low in his patient, that there was nothing between it and death, the doctor ordered certain measures to be taken.

“The fever is going, you see, but his strength is not coming, nor won’t for a while. It’s a very nice thing, I can tell you, to bring him to land with such fine tackle. I’ve brought a salmon ten pound weight into my net with a bit of a trout rod as light as a rush almost. But this is nicer play—not, mind you, that I’d have you in the dumps, ma’am, but it will be necessary to watch him as a cat would a mouse. Now, you’ll have on the table by his bed three bottles—decanted all, and ready for use instantaneously. Beside that claret you’ll have a bottle of port, and you must also have a bottle of brandy. He’ll be always at his tricks, going to faint, and you mustn’t let him. Because, ma’am, it might not be easy to get him out of such a faint, and a faint is death, ma’am, if it lasts long enough. Now, you’re not to be frightened.”

“Oh, no, Doctor Willett.”

“No, that would not do neither; but I want you clearly to see the importance of it. Let him have the claret to his lips constantly—in a tumbler, mind—you can’t give him too much; and whenever you see him look faint, you must reinforce that with port; and no mincing of matters—none of your half measures. I’d rather you made him drunk three times a day than run the least risk once of the other thing; and if the port doesn’t get him up quick enough, You must fire away with the brandy; and don’t spare it—don’t be afraid—well get him round, in time, with jellies and other good things; but life must be maintained in the meanwhile any way—every way—whatever way we can. So mind, three—claret, port, brandy.”

He held up three fingers as he named them, touching them in succession.

“That’s a fire it’s better should burn a bit too fiercely for an hour than sink too low for a second; once out, out for ever.”

“Thanks, Doctor Willett, I understand quite; and you’ll be here tomorrow, won’t you, at the usual hour?”

“Certainly, ma’am, and it’s high time you should begin to take a little care of yourself; you must, indeed, or you’ll rue it; you’re too much on your feet, and you have had no rest night or day, and it’s quite necessary you should, unless you mean to put yourself out of the world, which would not do at all. We can’t spare you, ma’am, we can’t indeed—a deal too valuable.”

For some time Charles Fairfield continued in very much the same state. At the end of three or four days he signed faintly to Alice, who was in the room, with her large soft eyes gazing on the invalid, whenever she could look unperceived. She got up gently and came close to him.

“Yes, darling,” and she lowered her head that he might speak more easily.

Charles whispered—

“Quite well?”

“You feel quite well? Thank God,” she answered, her large eyes filling with tears.

“Not I— you,” he whispered, with querulous impatience; “ain’t you?”

“Quite, darling.”

His fine blue Fairfield eyes were raised to her face.

“With a short sigh, he whispered,—“I’m glad.”

She stooped gently and kissed his thin cheek.

“I’ve been dreaming so much,” he whispered. “Will you tell me exactly what happened—just before my illness—something happened here?”

In a low murmur she told him.

When she stopp............