A few days after the transactions recorded in the preceding chapter, the
fever left Eveline, and consciousness was restored to its empire and reason
to its throne. But alas! what a wreck of her former self she was! Mr.
Mandeville could scarcely restrain his tears while gazing upon her pallid
countenance and wasted form. She was helpless as a child, and so weak it
was feared the recuperative powers were exhausted, and she must die from
prostration; but a day or two of careful nursing, aided by cordials and
tonics, produced a change for the better, and in the course of ten days,
she was able to walk in the open air and happy sunshine, supported by her
father. How lightly his heart beat in his bosom, as the child of his pride
and affection leaned upon his arm, as he gently led her whither she desired
to go.

She had a little arbor in the garden, the vines about which had been
carefully trained by her own hands; it had always been a favorite resort,
and of late had become a thousand times more dear, because it was there
that she and Hadley had spent most of their happy hours. So soon as she had
sufficient strength to bear the fatigue, she requested to be taken there,
and her wish was granted. What a throng of memories came crowding through
her mind as she once more sat in that verdant bower! Every flower had a
tongue and a reminiscence, and the entire place and scene spoke of the past
in language mute but eloquent. How her heart beat with excitement, as the
many associations of other days rushed over her spirit with the lightening
wings of thought, and awakened emotions of joy and grief. While with the
past she was happy; but when the cheerless present occupied her mind,
sadness filled her heart, while shadows gathered upon her brow, and tears
in her eyes.