regard to the best methods of
winning their love and confidence. Young as she was, Annie had
learned that all efforts to benefit the unfortunate or ignorant are
vain so long as the cold shoulder is turned towards them. She had
proved in Annorah's case the magic effect of loving words and
sympathy.

As the spring advanced, Annie grew weaker. The mild air seemed to
enervate rather than to brace her system, and she grew daily more
emaciated. Her paroxysms of pain were less frequent, and she suffered
most from languor and drowsiness. It was apparent to all but her fond
parents that her days were numbered. They watched over her with the
tenderest affection, hoping when there was no hope, and persuading
themselves and each other that she would rally again when the ripe
summer brought its gentle breezes and beautiful blossoms.

"She is so fond of flowers and of the open air," said Mrs. Lee to
Annorah, when, after an unusually restless and painful day, Annie had
fallen asleep at last, and both left the room to breathe the fresh
evening air. "When the weather gets settled so that she can let you
draw her little carriage down by the mill-stream again, she will
brighten up and get stronger. It is enough to make a well person ill,
to be shut up so long."

"Ye know best, shure," said Annorah, in her grief resuming her
national accent and brogue--"Ye know best, but it's thinner and weaker
she's getting, and is a baby for weight in me arms. Och! the dark day
it will be for poor Norah when she looks her last on that swate angel
face!" And the poor girl burst into tears, and covered her face with
her apron. After a few moments she went on to say,--"It'll go hard wi'
ye all, Mrs. Lee: ye'll miss her dear ways an' her heavenly smiles;
she is yer own blood, were she not an angel intirely. But oh, ma'am,
she's been to me what no words can tell; and the short life o' me will
seem without end till I go to wait on her above. Oh, what'll I do
without her, when the whole world is dark as night?"

Mrs. Lee could not reply, for she, too, was weeping. There was
something in Annorah's desolate tone that went to her heart, and
inspired a pitying affection for the plain-looking girl by her side,
which she would once have thought impossible. She began to comprehend
the mystery of Annie's caressing manner to her young nurse.

"Annorah, my poor girl," she faltered at length.

"Ah, ma'am, in all me troubles, and when I was wickedest, was it not
he