Explore "Loved and Lost" by Bertha M. Clay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Colonel Dacre would never forget that night of torture. The fever seemed to increase every hour, until the very pillows felt as if they were burning hot, and he stepped out of his tumbled bed, at last, and threw himself on the floor. The only comfort he had was in repeating to himself again and again: "She will come to-day -- she will come to-day! " But the day passed, somehow, and there was no sign of Lady Gwendolyn.
When the evening came round again he felt badly enough to alarm him a little, and he made the waiter fetch him a doctor. The pompous medico looked very grave when he had felt Colonel Dacre's pulse.