But instead of growing better the patient grew worse, and for days life was despaired of.  The most skillful medical treatment, and the most careful nursing scarcely saved his life.  And even after the imminent danger was over, it was weeks before he was able to be lifted from the bed to the sofa.

In the meantime, Throg, who was also treated by the doctor, recovered.  He took quite an affectionate leave of the young ensign, and with an appearance of great friendliness and honesty, promised to interest himself at headquarters in behalf of the young officer.  This somehow filled Edith with a vague distrust, and dark foreboding, for which she could neither account, nor excuse herself, nor yet shake off.  Thorg had been exchanged, and he joined his regiment after its return from Washington City, and before it sailed from the shores of America.

Weeks passed, during which the invalid occupied the sofa in his room—­and Edith was his sole nurse.  And then Commodore Waugh, with his wife, servants and caravan returned to Luckenough.

The old soldier had been “posted up,” he said, relative to all that had transpired in his absence.

There were no words, he declared, to express his admiration of Edith’s “heroism.”

It was in vain that Edith assured him that she had not been heroic at all—­that the preservation of Luckenough had been due rather to the timely succor of the college boys than to her own imprudent resolution.  It did no good—­the old man was determined to look upon his niece as a heroine worthy to stand by the side of Joan of Arc.

“For,” said he, “was it not the soul of a heroine that enabled her to stay and guard the house; and would the college company ever have come to the rescue of these old walls if they had not heard that she had resolutely remained to guard them and was almost alone in the house?  Don’t tell me!  Edith is the star maiden of old St. Mary’s, and I’m proud of her!  She is worthy to be my niece and heiress!  A true descendant of Marie Zelenski, is she!  And I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Edith!” he said, turning to her, “I’ll reward you, my dear!  I will.  I’ll marry you to Professor Grimshaw!  That’s what I’ll do, my dear!  And you both shall have Luckenough; that you shall!”

Months passed—­the war was over—­peace was proclaimed, and still the young ensign, an invalid, unable to travel, lingered at Luckenough.  Regularly he received his pay; twice he received an extension of leave of absence; and all through the instrumentality of—­Thorg.  Yet all this filled Edith with the greatest uneasiness and foreboding—­ungrateful, incomprehensible, yet impossible to be delivered from.

CHAPTER IV.

Edith’s troubles.