"I don't know about that," her companion said. "As I told you, Miss
Burgoyne is a business-like person. Linn, with his handsome figure and
his fine voice, with his popularity and social position, is a very
desirable match for her; but Linn become a nobody--his voice gone--his
social success along with it--would be something entirely different. At
the same time, Dr. Whitsen agrees with her in thinking there won't be
any permanent injury; it is the fever that is the serious thing."
They went back to the house; the reports were no better. And all that
night Lionel's fevered imaginings did not cease. He was haunted now by
visions of cruelties and sufferings being inflicted on some one he knew
in a far-distant land; he pleaded with the torturers; he called for
help; sometimes he said she was dead and released, and there was no more
need for him to go away in a ship to seek for her. The wearied brain
could get no rest at all. Daylight came, and still he lay there, moaning
and murmuring to himself. But help was at hand.
Between ten and eleven, Dr. Ballardyce, who had paid his usual morning
visit, was going away, and Maurice, as his custom was, went down-stairs
with him to hear the last word.
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