The old Doctor was beginning to look graver, in spite of himself.  The fever, if such it was, went gently forward, wasting the young girl’s powers of resistance from day to day; yet she showed no disposition to take nourishment, and seemed literally to be living on air.  It was remarkable that with all this her look was almost natural, and her features were hardly sharpened so as to suggest that her life was burning away.  He did not like this, nor various other unobtrusive signs of danger which his practised eye detected.  A very small matter might turn the balance which held life and death poised against each other.  He surrounded her with precautions, that Nature might have every opportunity of cunningly shifting the weights from the scale of death to the scale of life, as she will often do, if not rudely disturbed or interfered with.

Little tokens of good-will and kind remembrance were constantly coming to her from the girls in the school and the good people in the village.  Some of the mansion-house people obtained rare flowers which they sent her, and her table was covered with fruits—­which tempted her in vain.  Several of the school-girls wished to make her a basket of their own handiwork, and, filling it with autumnal flowers, to send it as a joint offering.  Mr. Bernard found out their project accidentally, and, wishing to have his share in it, brought home from one of his long walks some boughs full of variously tinted leaves, such as were still clinging to the stricken trees.  With these he brought also some of the already fallen leaflets of the white ash, remarkable for their rich olive-purple color, forming a beautiful contrast with some of the lighter-hued leaves.  It so happened that this particular tree, the white ash, did not grow upon The Mountain, and the leaflets were more welcome for their comparative rarity.  So the girls made their basket, and the floor of it they covered with the rich olive-purple leaflets.  Such late flowers as they could lay their hands upon served to fill it, and with many kindly messages they sent it to Miss Elsie Venner at the Dudley mansion-house.

Elsie was sitting up in her bed when it came, languid, but tranquil, and Helen was by her, as usual, holding her hand, which was strangely cold, Helen thought, for one who—­was said to have some kind of fever.  The school-girls’ basket was brought in with its messages of love and hopes for speedy recovery.  Old Sophy was delighted to see that it pleased Elsie, and laid it on the bed before her.  Elsie began looking at the flowers and taking them from the basket, that she might see the leaves.  All at once she appeared to be agitated; she looked at the basket,—­then around, as if there were some fearful presence about her which she was searching for with her eager glances.  She took out the flowers, one by one, her breathing growing hurried, her eyes staring, her hands trembling,—­till, as she came near the bottom of the basket, she flung out all the rest with a hasty movement, looked upon the olive-purple leaflets as if paralyzed for a moment, shrunk up, as it were, into herself in a curdling terror, dashed the basket from her, and fell back senseless, with a faint cry which chilled the blood of the startled listeners at her bedside.