Elvira had seen him last! His face looked pale and thin, his cheeks were sunken, and his eyes hollow and heavy, whilst his deep voice sounded hoarse and unnatural. Passion had passed through his soul, and withered as it went. Elvira's heart smote her as she gazed upon him.
"You have been ill, Edmund!" said she, in tones of melting softness. "Why was I not informed? Surely you could not think I would willingly neglect you? Could you judge so harshly of me?"
The firm breast of Edmund softened as she spoke, and tears swam in his eyes as he struggled to reply with calmness—yes, tears; the brave, the warlike Edmund, whose strength of mind and firmness had resisted unequalled dangers, now trembled before a woman.
"You must have some advice," continued Elvira. "Dr. Coleman, Dr. Hardman, can you not prescribe for your patient?"
"His Lordship appears feverish," said Dr. Coleman. "No doubt he has rested ill."
"Yes—yes," rejoined Dr. Hardman, with a
