“You will marry him yet,” the doctor said one night as he watched his patient through his wildest hours.

Dexie, who was sitting near the window, turned in surprise at the unlooked-for remark.

“Yes, my word for it, Miss Sherwood, you will marry him yet, after all the fuss you have made over your refusal.”

“Never!” The reply was low, but intense.  “I know my own mind, I guess!  I would not stay in the same room with him, though he is unconscious of my presence, only Mrs. Gurney imagines he is less restless when I am near, and she is anxious about his recovery.”

“Oh! you need not tell me!  I have heard of such cases before now.  I have seen your eyes full of pity as you have watched beside him with Mrs. Gurney.”

“Perhaps so; but not with the ‘pity that is akin to love,’ by any means,” and as Mrs. Gurney returned to the room, she bowed a stiff good-night to the doctor and went home.

After days of anxiety the fever reached its height, and there was not a more anxious heart in the house that day than Dexie’s own.

As she went about her daily household duties, she mentally pictured to herself what might happen in case of the worst.  Would she be blamed for his death? and what would become of all Hugh’s money?

She speculated as to how he had willed it, and wondered what were the contents of the letter Hugh had written to her father before that afternoon’s sail.  She hoped she would not be summoned again to the sick-room.  But she was not to have that wish, for late in the evening Lancy came in to bring her over at once.

“The doctor says the next hour will decide whether he lives or not, and he wants you to be near in case you are needed in a hurry.”

Towards midnight Hugh opened his eyes and recognized Mrs. Gurney, who was bending over him; and as he turned his face and saw the doctor also, he said, in a faint voice: 

“What is the matter?  Why am I here?”

“You have been sick, Hugh,” said Mrs. Gurney, taking his hand; “do not talk.”

“But I thought—­I thought—­I was in a boat,” he said, faintly, and a puzzled look came over his face.  “I was looking—­for someone—­or I was dreaming.”

“You must not talk; try not to think itself,” said the doctor, as he held some medicine to his lips.  “You have been dreaming, no doubt; but try not to think about it any more.”

Hugh was quiet for some minutes; memory was slowly returning; but at last the past all came back, and, casting an imploring glance into the doctor’s face, said: 

“Tell me!  I remember it all now—­I was searching for Dexie—­is she safe?”

“Yes, safe and well, so make your mind easy.”

“If I could—­only feel—­sure—­”

“Will you bring me that pitcher of water, Miss Sherwood?”

The doctor’s voice was low, but distinct, and an eager light came into Hugh’s face as he heard the name.