The patient opened her eyes slowly, and rolled them for a moment as if
she did not understand.

"Too late!" I cried. "Too late! She is delirious--insensible!"

Hilda repeated the words slowly, but very distinctly. "Do you hear,
dear? Arthur's ship... it is sighted.... Arthur's ship... at the
Lizard."

The girl's lips moved. "Arthur! Arthur!... Arthur's ship!" A deep sigh.
She clenched her hands. "He is coming?" Hilda nodded and smiled, holding
her breath with suspense.

"Up the Channel now. He will be at Southampton tonight. Arthur...
at Southampton. It is here, in the papers; I have telegraphed to him to
hurry on at once to see you."

She struggled up for a second. A smile flitted across the worn face.
Then she fell back wearily.

I thought all was over. Her eyes stared white. But ten minutes later
she opened her lids again. "Arthur is coming," she murmured. "Arthur...
coming."

"Yes, dear. Now sleep. He is coming."

All through that day and the next night she was restless and agitated;
but still her pulse improved a little. Next morning she was again a
trifle better. Temperature falling--a hundred and one, point three. At
ten o'clock Hilda came in to her, radiant.