a, and though Lord Martindale pressed her to consult her
own comfort by removing, he was evidently gratified by her begging to
be allowed to remain at the parsonage. He then returned to his wife, and
Lady Elizabeth, after offers of every service in her power, took leave,
while Violet returned to her charge.

Theodora awoke with less fever than they had ventured to hope, and
quite composed, though much surprised with her first acquaintance with
illness, and not even comprehending that she could not get up, till the
pain of the attempt corroborated Violet's assurance.

'How base it is,' said she, 'not to be able to do a few hours' work
without having to take to one's bed. I flattered myself I was not so
despicably weak, for a woman.'

'You might be satisfied,' said Violet, her heart too full to say more.

'Not while your Sarah walks about as if nothing had happened.'

'Where should any of us be but for you?' said Violet, bending over her.

'There's not an inch of me fit for kissing!' exclaimed Theodora, turning
away.

'Lord Martindale will soon come to tell you what he thinks of it.'

'Papa! Where is he? I don't remember him since we went down to
Armstrong's. Yes, I do though!' she paused, 'but I can't think of
it. Crying would be worse. What a queer thing fainting is! I used to
speculate what it was like.'

'How do you like it?' said Violet, perceiving her mood.

'Tolerably, in some respects; but it makes one's memory hazy. What has
become of mamma? I suppose she is afraid of the sight of my visage.'

'Oh! no, no!'

'My aunt, of course! How could I forget! Mrs. Armstrong spoke of
her being ill. Was it another stroke!' said Theodora, alarmed as her
recollection returned, and Violet was obliged to tell the whole.

'My poor mother!' said Theodora, gravely, 'I wish I could help--'

There was a knock at the door. Miss Standaloft stood hesitating and
making signs to Violet.

'Is there any news of Mrs. Nesbit?' asked Theodora. 'There can be only
one thing to hear. Is it over?'

It was, and the end had been quiet. Theodora drew a long breath, and
repeated, 'Poor mamma!'

'Do you want me? Do you think I might go to her!' said Violet. 'She has
no one with her but the gentlemen.'

'I should be very glad if you were there. Only don't hurt yourself, or
Arthur will be angry; and to have you to nurse would be more than could
be borne. My poor aunt! I think she softened at the last, and she loved
us all very much a