sick-chamber. There, such showers of love
poured down upon her, that she rose refreshed and calmed. After a few
weeks, her spirit came to her again like a little child's, and she was
once more the quiet Olive Rothesay, rich in all social affections, and
even content, save for the one never ceasing pain.

After a season of rest, she began earnestly to consider her future,
especially with respect to her Art. She longed to go back to it, and
drink again at its wells of peace. For dearly, dearly she loved it
still. Half-smiling, she began to call her pictures her children, and to
think of the time when they, a goodly race, would live, and tell no tale
of their creator's woe. This Art-life--all the life she had, and all she
would leave behind--must not be sacrificed by any miserable contest
with an utterly hopeless human love. Therefore she determined to quit
Harbury, and at once, before she began to paint her next picture. Her
first plan had been to go and live in London, but this was overruled by
Mrs. Flora Rothesay.

"Bide here with me, my dear niece. Come and dwell among your ain folk,
your father's kin."

And so it was at last fixed to be. But first Olive must go back to
Farnwood, to wind up the affairs of her little household, and to arrange
about Christal. She had lately thought a good deal of this young girl;
chiefly, perhaps, because she was now so eagerly clinging to every
interest that could occupy her future life. She remembered, with a
little compunction, how her heart had sprung to Christal on her first
coming, and how that sympathy had slowly died away, possibly from its
being so lightly reciprocated. Though nominally one of the household at
the Dell, Miss Manners had gradually seceded from it; so that by degrees
the interest with which Olive had once regarded her melted down into
the mere liking of duty. Whether this should be continued, became now
a matter of question. Olive felt almost indifferent on the subject, but
determined that Christal herself should decide. She never would give up
the girl, not even to go and live in the dear quiet household of Aunt
Flora. Having thus far made up her mind, Miss Rothesay fixed the day
for her return to Farnwood--a return looked forward to with a mixture
of fear and yearning. But the trial must be borne. It could not be for
long.

Ever since his departure Olive had never heard the sound of Harold's
name. Mrs. Flora did not talk of him at all. This, her niece though