as in a dream bound up.'

The heaviness--whether weariness or content, still continued. Alwyn
seemed to find it too much trouble to talk, and only gave little
smiles, more like his mother than himself. He clung quite desperately
to his sister when Mark offered to lift him from the carriage, but
nurse was close behind, and it was good to see the little arms
stretched out, and the head laid on her shoulder, the hand put up to
stroke her cheek, and the lips whispering 'Wyn's own nursie.' The
jubilant greeting and triumphant procession with which he was borne
upstairs seemed almost to oppress him. He appeared almost as if he was
afraid of wakening from a happy dream, and his lively merriment seemed
all gone; there were only beams of recognition and gladness at 'Wyn's
own nursery, Wyn's own pretty cup,' touching it as if to make sure that
it was real, and pleased to see the twisted crusts, his special treat.

But he could not eat much of them, and soon laid his head down, as one
weary, with the exhaustion of content; and nurse, who had allowed that
Mr. Dutton had, considering all things, done much for the outward
restoration of the daintiness of her recovered child, was impatient to
give him the hot bath and night's rest that was to bring back the
bright joyous Alwyn. So Nuttie only lingered for those evening prayers
she had yearned after so sorely. When she held his mother's picture to
him to be kissed, he raised his eyes to her and said: 'Will she come to
me at night now?'

'Who, my darling?'

'She, mother dear.'

'Here's her picture, dear boy.'

'Not only the picture--she came out of it, when I cried, up on the
nasty-smelling bundle in the van all in the dark.'

'She came?'

'Yes, she came, and made it so nice, and hushed me. I wasn't afraid to
go to by-by when she came. And she sang. Sister, can't you sing like
that?'

'Not here, I'm afraid, dear, dear boy,' she whispered, holding him so
tight that he gave a little cry of 'It hurts.' Then came the prayers,
not a word forgotten, and the little voice joined in her murmured
thanksgiving for bringing him home.

She was much moved and awe-stricken at these words of her little
brother; but she had to dress in haste for dinner, listening the while
to her maid's rejoinings and vituperations of the wretches who had
maltreated the child.

When she came down she found no one in the drawing-room but Mr. Dutton,
whom her father had asked to the happiest meal