he is not very well this morning. I will go and see whether
she intends to get up."

Salome went down stairs and knocked at the door of Miss Jane's room,
but no sound was audible within, and she softly turned the bolt and
entered.

The lamp was burning very dimly on a table close to the bed, and upon
the open Bible lay the spectacles which the old lady had placed there
twelve hours before, when she finished reading the nightly chapter
that generally composed her mind and put her to sleep.

Salome conjectured that she had forgotten to extinguish the lamp, and
as she cautiously turned the wick down, her eyes rested on the open
page where pencil-lines marked the twelfth chapter of Ecclesiastes,
and enclosed the sixth and seventh verses, "Or ever the silver cord be
loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, or the pitcher be broken at the
fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern. Then shall the dust
return to the earth as it was; and the spirit shall return unto God
who gave it."

Removing the glasses, the girl closed the book, and leaned over the
pillow to look at the sleeper. She had turned her face towards the
wall, and one hand lay under her head, pressed against her cheek,
while the other held her handkerchief on the outside of the
counterpane.

Very softly she slumbered, with a placid smile half breaking over her
aged, wrinkled features; and unwilling to shorten the morning nap in
which she so rarely indulged, Salome sat down at the foot of the bed,
and leaning her head on her hands, fell into a painful and profound
reverie.

Nearly an hour passed, unheeded by the unhappy girl, whose anguish
rendered her indifferent to all that surrounded her; and after a while
a keen pang thrilled her heart, as she heard Dr. Grey's pleasant voice
jesting with Stanley on the lawn. His happiness seemed an insult to
her misery, and she stopped her ears to exclude the sound of his quiet
laugh.

A half hour elapsed, and then his well-known rap was heard at the
door. Miss Jane did not answer, and Salome was in no mood to welcome
him home; but he waited for neither, and came in, gently closing the
door behind him.

At sight of the orphan, he started slightly, and said,--

"Is my sister sick?"

"I don't know, but she is sleeping unusually late. I thought it best
not to disturb her."

The look of dread that swept over his countenance frightened her, and
she rose as he moved hastily to the bedside.

"Salome, open the blinds. Q