ended
itself over the whole household, to whom their master was very dear.
Olive only sat in her own room, listening to every footstep.

Mrs. Gwynne came to her at last "It is all done, my dear, and he is not
so weak as we feared. But he is very much exhausted still. We must take
great care even now."

"Certainly," answered Olive. She knew what the anxious mother meant, and
dared not utter the longing at her heart.

"I hardly know what to do," said Mrs. Gwynne, restlessly. "He has been
asking to see you."

"To see me! And--may I!"----

"I told him not to-day, and I was right. Child, look at your own face
now! Until you can calm yourself, you shall not see my Harold." Without
offering any opposition, Olive sat down. Mrs. Gwynne was melted. "Nay,"
she said, "you shall do as you will, little patient one! I left him
asleep now; you shall stay by him until he wakes. Come."

She took her to the door, but quitted her there, perhaps remembering the
days when she too was young.

Olive entered noiselessly, and took her place by Harold's side. He was
sleeping; though it was not the death-like sleep in which she had beheld
him, that mournful night; but a quiet, healthful slumber. His whole face
seemed softened and spiritualised, as is often the case with strong men,
whom a long illness has brought low. With childlike helplessness there
seems to come a childlike peace. Olive knew now why Mrs. Gwynne had
said, a few days since, that Harold looked as he had done when he was a
little boy--his mother's only boy.

For a few minutes Olive sat silently watching. She felt how utterly she
loved him--how, had he died, the whole world would have faded from her
like a blank dream. And even now, should she have to part from him in
any way----

"I cannot--I cannot It would be more than I could bear." And from the
depth of her heart rose a heavy sigh.

Harold seemed to hear it. He moved a little, and said, faintly. "Who is
there?"

"It is I."

"Olive--little Olive." His white cheek flushed, and he held out his
hand.

She, remembering his mother's caution, only whispered, "I am so glad--so
glad!"

"It is a long time since I saw you," he said brokenly. "Stand so that I
can look at you, Olive!" She obeyed. He looked long and wistfully at her
face. "You have been weeping, I see. Wherefore?"

"Because I am so happy to think you are better."

"Is that true? Do you think so much of me?" And a pale but most joyful
smile broke over h