Part 28 (2/2)

a.s.sured by the symbol that the worst had not yet happened, she followed the physician to the end of the gallery, and he then told her that immediate danger was past.

'And now, my dear madam,' said the physician to her, 'you must breathe some fresh air. Oblige me by descending.'

Lady Armine no longer refused; she repaired with a slow step to Sir Ratcliffe; she leant upon her husband's breast as she murmured to him her hopes. They went forth together. Katherine and Glas...o...b..ry were in the garden. The appearance of Lady Armine gave them hopes. There was a faint smile on her face which needed not words to explain it. Katherine sprang forward, and threw her arms round her aunt's neck.

'He may be saved! he may be saved,' whispered the mother; for in this hushed house of impending death they had lost almost the power as well as the habit, of speaking in any other tone.

'He sleeps,' said the physician; 'all present danger is past.'

'It is too great joy,' murmured Katherine; and Glas...o...b..ry advanced and caught in his arms her insensible form.

CHAPTER XI.

_In Which Ferdinand Begins to Be a Little Troublesome_.

FROM the moment of this happy slumber Ferdinand continued to improve.

Each day the bulletin was more favourable, until his progress, though slow, was declared certain, and even relapse was no longer apprehended.

But his physician would not allow him to see any one of his family. It was at night, and during his slumbers, that Lady Armine stole into his room to gaze upon her beloved child; and, if he moved in the slightest degree, faithful to her promise and the injunction of the physician, she instantly glided behind his curtain, or a large Indian screen which she had placed there purposely. Often, indeed, did she remain in this fond lurking-place, silent and trembling, when her child was even awake, listening to every breath, and envying the nurse that might gaze on him undisturbed; nor would she allow any sustenance that he was ordered to be prepared by any but her own fair, fond hands; and she brought it herself even to his door. For Ferdinand himself, though his replies to the physician sufficiently attested the healthy calmness of his mind, he indeed otherwise never spoke, but lay on his bed without repining, and seemingly plunged in mild and pensive abstraction. At length, one morning he enquired for Glas...o...b..ry, who, with the sanction of the physician, immediately attended him.

When he met the eye of that faithful friend he tried to extend his hand.

It was so wan that Glas...o...b..ry trembled while he touched it.

'I have given you much trouble,' he said, in a faint voice.

'I think only of the happiness of your recovery,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

'Yes, I am recovered,' murmured Ferdinand; 'it was not my wish.'

'Oh! be grateful to G.o.d for this great mercy, my Ferdinand.'

'You have heard nothing?' enquired Ferdinand.

Glas...o...b..ry shook his head.

'Fear not to speak; I can struggle no more. I am resigned. I am very much changed.'

'You will be happy, dear Ferdinand,' said Glas...o...b..ry, to whom this mood gave hopes.

'Never,' he said, in a more energetic tone; 'never.'

'There are so many that love you,' said Glas...o...b..ry, leading his thoughts to his family.

'Love!' exclaimed Ferdinand, with a sigh, and in a tone almost reproachful.

'Your dear mother,' said Glas...o...b..ry.

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