During the night that saw Sybil Burrill’s reason give way under the long, horrible strain, that had borne upon it; the night that witnessed the downfall of Frank Lamotte’s cherished hopes, and closed the earthly career of John Burrill; Mrs. Lamotte and Mrs. Aliston hovered over the bed where lay Sybil, now tossing in delirium, now sinking into insensibility. Early in the evening, Dr. Heath had been summoned, and he had responded promptly to Mrs. Lamotte’s eager call.
They could do little, just then, save to administer opiates; he told them there was every symptom of brain fever; by tomorrow he would know what course of treatment to pursue; until then, keep the patient quiet, humor all her whims, so far as was possible; give her no stimulants, and, if there was any marked change, send for
