oked happy; but
she had become fond of the Indian gentleman because he looked unhappy.
He had evidently not fully recovered from some very severe illness. In
the kitchen--where, of course, the servants, through some mysterious
means, knew everything--there was much discussion of his case. He was
not an Indian gentleman really, but an Englishman who had lived in
India. He had met with great misfortunes which had for a time so
imperilled his whole fortune that he had thought himself ruined and
disgraced forever. The shock had been so great that he had almost died
of brain fever; and ever since he had been shattered in health, though
his fortunes had changed and all his possessions had been restored to
him. His trouble and peril had been connected with mines.

"And mines with diamonds in 'em!" said the cook. "No savin's of mine
never goes into no mines--particular diamond ones"--with a side glance
at Sara. "We all know somethin' of THEM." "He felt as my papa felt,"
Sara thought. "He was ill as my papa was; but he did not die."

So her heart was more drawn to him than before. When she was sent out
at night she used sometimes to feel quite glad, because there was
always a chance that the curtains of the house next door might not yet
be closed and she could look into the warm room and see her adopted
friend. When no one was about she used sometimes to stop, and, holding
to the iron railings, wish him good night as if he could hear her.

"Perhaps you can FEEL if you can't hear," was her fancy. "Perhaps kind
thoughts reach people somehow, even through windows and doors and
walls. Perhaps you feel a little warm and comforted, and don't know
why, when I am standing here in the cold and hoping you will get well
and happy again. I am so sorry for you," she would whisper in an
intense little voice. "I wish you had a 'Little Missus' who could pet
you as I used to pet papa when he had a headache. I should like to be
your 'Little Missus' myself, poor dear! Good night--good night. God
bless you!"

She would go away, feeling quite comforted and a little warmer herself.
Her sympathy was so strong that it seemed as if it MUST reach him
somehow as he sat alone in his armchair by the fire, nearly always in a
great dressing gown, and nearly always with his forehead resting in his
hand as he gazed hopelessly into the fire. He looked to Sara like a man
who had a trouble on his mind still, not merely like one whose troubles
lay