IT was a wretched and anxious night for Hazel.

He watched the hut, without the courage to approach it.

That one moment of weakness which occurred to him on board the _Proserpine,_ when he had allowed Helen to perceive the nature of his feelings toward her, had rendered all his actions open to suspicion.

He dared not exhibit toward her any sympathy--he might not extend to her the most ordinary civility.

If she fell ill, if fever supervened! how could he nurse her, attend upon her?
His touch must have a significance, he knew that; for, as he bore her insensible form, he embraced rather than carried the precious burden.
Could he look upon her in her suffering without betraying his forbidden love?
And then would not his attentions afflict more than console?
Chewing the cud of such bitter thoughts, he passed the night without noticing the change which was taking place over the island.