st," she added.

"I couldn't pretend to give an opinion at present; I can only tell you
that she is in a most precarious state," he replied gravely. "Everything
depends upon the prevention of the hemorrhage, a return of which would
be certain death. At the same time, that is not all that we have to
fear."

For a long time Isabel hovered between life and death, scarcely
conscious of what was passing around her. Day after day the children
would linger on the stairs, whenever the doctor came, to hear his
account of Miss Leicester. But he only shook his head, and said "he
could not have them there. Their governess was very ill, and they must
be very good children." Then they would return to the school-room, and
spend, as best they might, these joyless holidays.

At last the longed for answer came--"She was certainly better," and they
were delighted beyond measure; but their joy was considerably damped,
when he told them that they could not be permitted to see her for some
time yet.

Isabel's recovery was very slow, though every care and attention was
bestowed upon her, and each vied with the other in showing kindness to
the orphan girl. Still Isabel felt her lonely, dependent condition,
acutely. Life seemed a dreary, cheerless existence; and she experienced
a shrinking from the future which seemed to be before her, which was at
times almost insupportable. She longed to be at rest. The prostration
and langour, both mental and bodily, that accompanied this depression,
was so great as to seriously retard her recovery, and almost baffled the
doctor's skill. She would lie for hours without speaking or moving,
apparently asleep, but only in a sort of waking dream. She took no
interest in anything, and appeared quite incapable of making any effort
to overcome this apathy. Emily tried her best to amuse her; but after
taking pains to relate everything that she thought of interest that had
occurred, Isabel would smile and thank her, in a way that proved she had
not been listening. Thus week after week of her convalescence passed,
while, to the doctor's surprise and disappointment, she made no further
progress. After visiting his patient one afternoon, he requested a few
moments' conversation with Mrs. Arlington. "My dear madam," he said,
when that lady had led the way into the morning-room, "has Miss
Leicester no friends, with whom she could spend a few weeks? for if she
is allowed to remain in this lethargic state, she will inev