"Oh, sir, I am so glad to see you once more!"

He took her hands in his and looked at her gravely; then made her
sit down again on the step, and said: "I suppose you would have died before you could get your consent to
send for me? It is well that you have somebody to look after you.
How long have you had this fever?"

"Fever! Why, sir, I have no fever," she replied, with some surprise.

"Oh, child! are you trying to destroy yourself by your obstinacy? If
so, like most other things you undertake, I suppose you will
succeed."

He held her hands and kept his finger on the quick bounding pulse.
Beulah had not seen him since the night of Cornelia's death, some
months before, and conjectured that Dr. Asbury had told him she was
not looking well.

She could not bear the steady, searching gaze of his luminous eyes,
and, moving restlessly, said: "Sir, what induces you to suppose that I am sick? I have complained
of indisposition to no one."

"Of course you have not, for people are to believe that you are a
gutta-percha automaton."

She fancied his tone was slightly sneering; but his countenance wore
the expression of anxious, protecting interest which she had so
prized in days past, and, as her hands trembled in his clasp and his
firm hold tightened, she felt that it was useless to attempt to
conceal the truth longer.