The red coals passed away and the sportive flames ceased to dance.

Paul was asleep.
Henry Ware sat in silence on one of the chairs at the corner of the hearth, and when Paul's breathing became long, deep, and regular, he saw that he had achieved the happy result.

He rose soundlessly, and put his hand upon Paul's forehead.

It came back damp.

Paul was in a profuse perspiration, and his fever was sinking rapidly.