Nearly all the day long he sat just without the door, holding his breath as he caught the faint tones of her voice, and longing for the hour when he could see her, and obtain, if possible, some clue to the mystery attending her and his father.  His mother’s words, together with what he had heard ’Lena say in her ravings, had tended to convince him that she, at least, might be innocent, and once assured of this, he felt that he would gladly fold her to his bosom, and cherish her there as the choicest of heaven’s blessings.  All this time ’Lena had no suspicion of his presence, but she wondered at the many luxuries which surrounded her, and once, when Mrs. Aldergrass offered her some choice wine, she asked who it was that supplied her with so many comforts.  Aunt Betsey’s, forte did not lay in keeping a secret, and rather evasively she replied, “You mustn’t ask me too many questions just yet!”

’Lena’s suspicions were at once aroused, and for more than an hour she lay thinking—­trying to recall something which seamed to her like a dream.  At last calling Aunt Betsey to her, she said, “There was somebody here while I was so sick—­somebody besides strangers—­somebody that stayed with me all the time—­who was it?”

“Nobody, nobody—­I mustn’t tell,” said Mrs. Aldergrass, hurriedly, while ’Lena continued, “Was it Cousin John?”

“No, no; don’t guess any more,” was Mrs. Aldergrass’s reply, and ’Lena, clasping her hands together, exclaimed, “Oh, could it he be?”

The words reached Durward’s ear, and nothing but a sense of the harm it might do prevented him from going at once to her bedside.  That night, at his earnest request, the physician gave him permission to see her in the morning, and Mrs. Aldergrass was commissioned to prepare her for the interview.  ’Lena did not ask who it was; she felt that she knew; and the knowledge that he was there—­that he had cared for her—­operated upon her like a spell, soothing her into the most refreshing slumber she had experienced for many a weary week.  With the sun-rising she was awake, but Mrs. Aldergrass, who came in soon after, told her that the visitor was not to be admitted until about ten, as she would by that time have become more composed, and be the better able to endure the excitement of the interview.  A natural delicacy prevented ’Lena from objecting to the delay, and, as calmly as possible, she watched Mrs. Aldergrass while she put the room to rights, and then patiently submitted to the arranging of her curls, which during her illness had become matted and tangled.  Before eight everything was in readiness, and soon after, worn out by her own exertions, ’Lena again fell asleep.

“How lovely she looks,” thought Mrs. Aldergrass.  “He shall just have a peep at her,” and stepping to the door she beckoned Durward to her side.

Never before had ’Lena, seemed so beautiful to him, and as he looked upon her, he felt his doubts removing, one by one.  She was innocent—­it could not be otherwise—­and very impatiently he awaited the lapse of the two hours which must pass ere he could see her, face to face.  At length, as the surest way of killing time, he started out for a walk in a pleasant wood, which skirted the foot of Laurel Hill.