willing to yield our executorships if Miriam desires it,” she said.  “I, for one, should be glad to lift such a yoke from my shoulders, unaccustomed to such a burden.  Mr. Stanbury, desirable as you seem to think it, this post of mine is no sinecure.  But spare Miriam this scene, I beg of you; she is much overcome—­much exhausted; excitement in her case is very injurious, Dr. Pemberton says.  Let me beg you, my dear sir, to retire.  All shall be done properly and in order.  Her interest is our chief concern, of course.”

“Evelyn Erle, I have nothing to say to you,” I heard Mr. Stanbury exclaim, in a loud, excited tone.  “It is not with women I wish to wage war, and so understand me!  But there is One above to whom you will have to account rigidly some day for your stewardship and guardianship of these friendless girls, and be prepared, I counsel you, with your accounts, to meet Him when the day of reckoning comes!  And it may come sooner than you suspect.  I, for one, shall keep an unslumbering eye upon you and your devices while I live, even though at a distance.—­Miriam, I am always ready to assist you, my dear, in any way possible to me—­call on me freely.  Remember, I am your friend.”  He came to me, he took me to his breast, he kissed my brow, his tears were on my cheek.  I cast my arms about his dear, old, noble neck; I leaned my quivering face against his bosom.  “I always loved you,” I said.  “I am so sorry, so sorry, Mr. Stanbury!” I knew no more—­the words forsook my lips.  Again that wild whirl of waters surged upon my ears; I seemed to be falling, falling down a black, steep, bottomless shaft, beneath which the sea was roaring—­falling head-foremost—­hurled as if with a strong impulse down the abyss to certain destruction.

Then all was still.  The jaws of my dark malady had opened to receive me.

I woke as from a long, deep, and unrefreshing slumber.  I was lying in my bed, with the curtains, drawn closely around it—­the heavy crimson curtains, with their white inside draperies and snowy tufted fringes.  I had a vague consciousness that some hand had recently parted them, and the tassels on the valance were quivering still with the impulse they had thus received.  Then I heard voices.

“How much longer will it endure, Evelyn?”

“Five or six hours, I suppose.  What time is it now?” The clock in the hall struck ten before the question could be answered.

“Ten!  It was about three when she was seized,” rejoined the voice of Evelyn; “you can calculate for yourself—­the turns are invariably twelve and twenty-four hours in duration; if one period is transcended the other is accomplished.  Dr. Pemberton himself told me this.”

“Might not the term in some way be shortened?  I was very sure I heard her stirring just now, and my heart was in my mouth.”  After which a pause.

“I knew you were mistaken, but I examined to satisfy your mind.  No, she still lies in a lethargy, and will lie in that comatose condition until after noon.  Then Dr. Pemberton will be here, and she will revive.”