“Do you want anything else, sir?  The bathroom is all ready.”

“Has my sister been to the asylum?”

“No, sir.”

“Go and arrange Beulah’s room.”

She retired; and, springing up, he paced the floor, striving to master the emotion which so unwontedly agitated him.  His lips writhed, and the thin nostrils expanded, but he paused before the melodeon, sat down and played several pieces, and gradually the swollen veins on his brow lost their corded appearance, and the mouth resumed its habitual compression.  Then, with an exterior as calm as the repose of death, he took his hat, and went toward the parlor.  Mr. Lockhart was reclining on one of the sofas, Pauline sat on an ottoman near him, looking over a book of prints, and Mrs. Chilton, tastefully attired, occupied the piano-stool.  Witching strains of music greeted her brother, as he stopped at the door and looked in.  In the mirror opposite she saw his image reflected, and for an instant her heart beat rapidly; but the delicate fingers flew over the keys as skillfully as before, and only the firm setting of the teeth betokened the coming struggle.  He entered, and, walking up to the invalid, said cordially: 

“How are you, Percy? better, I hope.”  While one hand clasped his friend’s, the other was laid with brotherly freedom on the sick man’s head.

“Of course I am.  There was no malady in Eden, was there?  Verily, Guy, in your delightful home, I am growing well again.”

“Ah! so much for not possessing Ithuriel’s spear.  I am glad to find you free from fever.”

“Howd’y-do, uncle!  Don’t you see me?” said Pauline, reaching up her hand.

“It is always hard to find you, Pauline; you are such a demure, silent little body,” said he, shaking her hand kindly.

“Welcome, Guy!  I expected you yesterday.  What detained you so long?” Mrs. Chilton approached with outstretched hand, and at the same time offered her lips for a kiss.

He availed himself of neither, but, fixing his eyes intently on hers, said as sweetly as if he had been soothing a fretful child: 

“Necessity, of course; but now that I have come, I shall make amends, I promise you, for the delay.  Percy, has she taken good care of you?”

“She is an admirable nurse; I can never requite the debt she has imposed.  Is not my convalescence sufficient proof of her superior skill?” Mr. Lockhart raised himself, and, leaning on his elbow, suffered his eyes to rest admiringly on the graceful form and faultless features beside him.

“Are you really so much better?” said Dr. Hartwell, gnawing his lip.

“Indeed I am!  Why are you so incredulous?  Have you so little confidence in your own prescriptions?”

“Confidence!  I had little enough when given, immeasurably less now.  But we will talk of all this after a little.  I have some matters to arrange, and will be with you at tea.  May, I wish to see you.”