“Doctor,” said Mrs. Weston, “I know you have not given her up!”

“I never give anybody up,” said the doctor.  “Who will say what God intends to do?  I trust she will struggle through.  Many a storm assails the fair ship on her first voyage over the seas.  She may be sadly tossed about with the wind and waves; but may breast it gallantly, and come back safe, after all.  We must do what we can, and hope for the best.”  These words strengthened the mother’s heart to watch and hope.

The doctor laid down to sleep for an hour or two in the afternoon.  Cousin Janet, Mrs. Weston, and Phillis kept their watch in silence.  The latter gently fanned Alice, who lay gazing, but unconscious; now looking inquiringly into her mother’s face, now closing her eyes to every thing.  There was no tossing or excitement about her, that was over.  Her cheek was pale, and her eyes languid and faded.  One would not have believed, to have looked upon her, how high the fever still raged.  Suddenly she repeated the word that had often been on her lips—­“Mother.”  Then, with an effort to raise herself, she sank back upon her pillow, exhausted.  A sorrowful look, like death, suffused itself over her countenance.  Ah! how throbbed those hearts!  Was the dreaded messenger here?

“Miss Anna,” whispered Phillis, “she is not gone, her pulse is no lower; it is the same.”

“Is it the same? are you sure?” said Mrs. Weston, who, for a few moments, had been unable to speak, or even to place her finger on the pulse.

“It is no worse, if you’ll believe me,” said Phillis; “it may be a little better, but it is no worse.”

“Had I not better wake the doctor?” said Mrs. Weston, who hardly knew what to believe.

Miss Janet gently touched the wrist of the invalid.

“Do not wake him, my dear; Phillis is right in saying she is no worse; it was a fainting, which is passing away.  See! she looks as usual.  Give her the medicine, it is time; and leave her quiet, the doctor may be disturbed to-night.”

The night had passed, and the morning was just visible, as symptoms of the same nature affected the patient.  Dr. Lawton had seen her very late at night, and had requested them to awaken him should there be any change in her appearance or condition.  Oh, how these anxious hearts feared and hoped through this night.  What might it bring forth; joy or endless weeping?

This dread crisis past, and what would be the result?

“Doctor,” said Phillis, gently awaking him, “I’m sorry to disturb you.  Miss Alice has had another little turn, and you’d better see her.”

“How is her pulse?” said the doctor, quickly.  “Is it failing?”

“’Pears to me not, sir; but you can see.”

They went to the room, and the doctor took Alice’s small wrist, and lightly felt her pulse.  Then did the mother watch his face, to see its writing.  What was there?