One of the grooms had come down from the Hall, at six o’clock, to inquire how he was, and the message given by the girl, that he had been out, but that he had come back and was now sound asleep, satisfied Mrs. Walsham, and enabled her to devote her undivided attention to her charge, who needed her care more than her son.  Before night, indeed, the squire had sent down to Sidmouth for Dr. Walsham’s successor, who said that Aggie was very feverish, and must be kept perfectly quiet for some days.  He sent her up a soothing draught, and Mrs. Walsham sat up with her all night.  She slept but little, and talked almost incessantly, sometimes rambling a little.

The first thing in the morning, the doctor was again sent for, and on his recommendation the squire at once sent off a man, on horseback, to Exeter, for the leading physician of that town.  When he arrived, late in the afternoon, Aggie was somewhat quieter, and his report was more cheering.

“Her pulse is very high,” he said; “but Mr. Langford tells me that it is not so rapid as it was in the morning, and that he thinks the symptoms are abating.  Undoubtedly, it is a sharp feverish attack, brought on by excitement and exposure.  A very little more, and it would have been a case of brain fever, but I trust now that it will soon pass off.  The sedatives that have been administered are taking effect, and I trust she will soon fall asleep.

“As you requested, I have made my arrangements for staying here tonight, and I trust that, by the morning, we shall have her convalescent.”

Mr. Wilks had gone down, the first thing in the morning, to see James, and found him up and about as usual.  He was very greatly concerned, at hearing that Aggie had passed a bad night, and came four times up to the Hall, during the day, to inquire about her; and on his last visit, late in the evening, he was told that she was sleeping quietly, and that the doctor had every hope that she would wake, in the morning, free from fever.  This proved to be the case; but she was ordered to keep her bed for a day or two.

On the morning after the storm, the wind had gone down much, although a tremendous sea was still breaking on the shore.  Messages arrived, in the course of the day, to say that all the missing boats, with one exception, had succeeded in gaining the shore before the storm was full on.  The missing boat was never heard of again.

Two days later, James Walsham had strolled up the hill to the east of the town, and was lying, with a book before him, in a favourite nook of his looking over the sea.  It was one of the lovely days which sometimes come late in autumn, as if the summer were determined to show itself at its best, before leaving.  It could not be said that James was studying, for he was watching the vessels passing far out at sea, and inwardly moaning over the fact that he was destined for a profession for which he had no real liking, instead of being free to choose one of travel and adventure.