o her out of the darkness.

She still welcomed her friend Scott at her bedside, but very curiously
she had grown a little shy in his presence. She could not forget that
dream of hers, and for a long time she was haunted by the dread that he
had in some way come to know of it. Though the steady eyes never held
anything but the utmost kindness and sympathy, she was half afraid to
meet them lest they should look into her heart and see the vision she had
seen. She never called him Mr. Greatheart now.

With Isabel, beloved nurse and companion, she was completely at her ease.
A great change had come over Isabel--such a change as turns the bare
earth into a garden of spring when the bitter winter is past at last. All
the ice-bound bitterness had been swept utterly away, and in its place
there blossomed such a wealth of mother-love as transformed her
completely.

She spent herself with the most lavish devotion in Dinah's service. There
was not a wish that she expressed that was not swiftly and abundantly
satisfied. Night and day she was near her, ignoring all Biddy's
injunctions to rest, till the old woman, seeing the light that had dawned
in the shadowed eyes, left her to take her own way in peace. She hovered
in the background, always ready in case her mistress's new-found strength
should fail. But Isabel did not need her care. All her being was
concentrated upon the task of bringing Dinah back to life, and she
thought of nothing else, meeting the strain with that strength which
comes in great emergencies to all.

And as she gradually succeeded in her task, a great peace descended upon
her, such as she had never known before. Biddy sometimes gazed in
amazement at the smooth brow and placid countenance at Dinah's bedside.

"Sure, the young lady's been a blessing straight from the Almighty," she
said to Scott.

"I think so too, Biddy," he made quiet answer.

He was much less in the sick-room now that Dinah's need of him had
passed. He sometimes wondered if she even knew how many hours he had
formerly spent there. He visited her every day, and it was to him that
the task fell of telling her that the de Vignes had arranged to leave
her in their charge.

"We have your father's permission," he said, when her brows drew together
with a troubled expression. "You see, it is quite impossible to move you
at present, and they must be getting home. Billy is to go with them if
you think you can be happy alone with us."

She put