She passed an uneasy, restless night, and long before morning she awoke for the sixth or seventh time, and she awoke with a misgiving in her mind, and some sound ringing in her ears. She listened and heard nothing; but in a few moments it began again.
It was Hazel talking—talking in a manner so fast, so strange, so loud, that it made her blood run cold.
It was the voice of Hazel, but not his mind. She drew near, and, to her dismay, found him fever-stricken, and pouring out words with little sequence.
She came close to him and tried to soothe him, but he answered her quite at random, and went on flinging out the strangest things in stranger order. She trembled and waited for a lull, hoping then to soothe him with soft words and tones of tender pity…
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