irst, of course, but Aunt Madge has taken mother's place. All
these years she has helped me so with her wise, loving counsel and
sympathy."

"While there is life there is hope, Livy," observed Marcus, gently; and
his hand touched hers in the darkness.

"Dr. Randolph does not own himself beaten by any means. Do what you
can to help Deb, for she is just worn out, the foolish, faithful
creature;" and his voice changing, "do not forget me or Dot, and for
our sakes take care of yourself," and with these words he opened the
little gate and left her to go in alone.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"I HAVE COME TO STAY."

"The dear Lord's best interpreters
Are humble human souls;
The gospel of a life
Is more than books or scrolls."--_Whittier_.

"Deb, I have come to stay," were Olivia's first words, as the woman met
her on the top of the stairs; but Deborah's only answer was to lift her
hands in dumb protest and lead the way into the kitchen.

Deb's strong, hard-featured face was haggard and drawn with fatigue and
anxiety, and she looked more gaunt and angular than ever: her reddened,
swollen eyelids told their own tale.

"I am come to stay," repeated Olivia, firmly; but Deborah only shrugged
her shoulders and walked over to the fireplace.

"You won't need to stay long, Miss Olive," she said, in a choked
voice--at moments of excitement it was still "Miss Olive" with
Deb--"she is failing fast, dear soul; the fever's gone and left her as
weak as a new-born babe. I always said my mistress was only fit to be
among the angels!" and Deb gave an expressive sniff as she filled her
kettle. Olivia felt a dull pain at her heart at this speech, but she
would not let herself give way. Deborah, as she knew, always took a
gloomy view of her mistress's illnesses.

"Dr. Randolph is coming again to-night," she observed; "my husband told
me so;" but Olivia's hand shook as she took off her hat and jacket.

"Yes, Miss Olive, the doctor is coming again, and that speaks for
itself, to my mind. I knew what it was four days ago, for she was
taken ill the very night after you drove round to see her, but I dare
not let you know. 'We won't tell Mrs. Luttrell, or she will be
anxious, and will insist on coming to nurse me. Promise me that you
will not send to Galvaston Terrace, Deb;' and what was a poor servant
to do? I suppose if Dr. Luttrell has sent you you will have to stop,
but I won't give up nursing my mistress even to you