lessness and anxiety. "I can never thank you."

"Do not try," he answered, pressing the hand she had held out to him,
and looking at her with eyes she could not have failed to read had she
not been in such a tumult of absorbing thoughts, and then he went
carefully out, and Olive, bidding sleepy Bettine to lie down, took her
seat again by the bed, and daylight came up brightly, while she watched
Ernestine's sleeping face, with eyes that were continually blinded by
thankful tears.

Soon after breakfast, the carriage from the Hall came dashing up to the
Virginia, and in a few moments, Mr. Congreve was stamping hurriedly up
stairs, while James followed, carrying Jean, who was trembling like a
leaf with eager excitement.

"God bless my soul! I never did!" cried Mr. Congreve, as Roger, hearing
them coming, met them at the top of the last flight. "Such thundering
stairs! Why I sha'n't breathe straight again for a month, and I don't
want to go in on the dear child puffing like a crazy porpoise. Let me
sit right down here to blow my nose and get my breath. How is she,
Roger?"

"Better this morning. She ate a little breakfast and drank some wine,
but is very weak yet. Jeanie, that is the room. You may go in, but go
quietly," said Roger, and Jean, being placed on the floor, almost forgot
to use her cane, as she limped hurriedly along.

Ernestine was watching the door with eager, hungry eyes, and the moment
Jean appeared, she held out her feeble hands, and the next moment,
Jean's kisses were covering her face, and the little girl was saying in
joyous eagerness:

"I knew God would bring you back. I've asked Him every night since you
went away. Oh, my precious, darling, Ernestine, I'm so glad that I can't
help crying," the delighted sobs bubbling up as she spoke; while
Ernestine, forbidden to speak, fondled the curly hair and dear little
face, and feebly smiled her happiness.

"Well, my child, God bless you, I'm glad we've got you again," was Mr.
Congreve's greeting, as he came in, making every effort not to be noisy
or speak too loud, in consequence of which, his voice was dropped to a
sepulchral whisper, and he walked as if the floor was spread with eggs.
But his kind, sharp eyes were full of tears, his voice shook, and he
held her frail hand as though it was a precious wafer, that slight
pressure might demolish.

"The doctor was here, just now," said Olive, "He says we may take her
out home by to-morrow, if she continues