He blushed, too, spiritually, as it were. ***** From the comatose state, Spurlock passed into that of the babbling fever; but that guarding instinct which is called subconsciousness held a stout leash on his secret. "Well, I will see him," replied the knight, after a moment's pause; "he may be from the Earl of Mar. There is so little abandon, so little real joyousness. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. He sat down beside her and stroked her hair.
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