pathy with the sorrowing mother at Oak-ridge, and they
talked a great deal about the blow that had fallen upon poor little
Elsli. She had not only lost a friend whose companionship had brought
her new life, but she must now go back to the hard and uncongenial labor
from which she had had a brief and blessed respite. Fani too, the only
bright spot in her dark lot, was away now, and who could tell when she
would have him again? Indeed, Fani's fate was also a source of anxiety,
especially on account of Emma's share in his disappearance. Would all
turn out right for the boy? Would he get a suitable education, and what
sort of a future lay before him? The information they had obtained from
Basel had not proved perfectly satisfactory. The scene-painter had, to
be sure, taken Fani into his service, but the boy had nothing to do with
the painting but to clean up the brushes and palettes, and grind the
colors; and, although he had his board and lodging from his master, he
must pay for his clothes himself. It was not a very promising outlook
for Fani. His parents were willing to have him stay away from home, but
they expected him at least to support himself, if not to send them some
money occasionally. Mrs. Stein could not decide what ought to be done,
and all this new care would have been a very heavy burden to bear, if
her sister had not lightened it by her sympathy and encouragement.
Aunty's cheerful spirit always inspired hope and confidence.

* * * * *

The next morning, Emma, with a downcast air, asked leave to take some
flowers over to lay upon the bed by Nora. Her mother was glad to let her
go, and glad too that Fred offered to accompany his sister. The children
were admitted to the house, and shown into the room where Nora lay upon
a snow-white bed; herself as white and cold as marble.

Mrs. Stanhope was kneeling by the bedside, her face buried in the
coverlet. Emma laid her flowers upon the bed, and, with fast flowing
tears, looked upon the peaceful face, and remembered sadly that she had
not done a friendly act for the little invalid, nor helped to wile away
her lonely hours. She left the room sorry and ashamed, regretting her
selfishness, when it was too late to do any good.

A little while after, Mrs, Stein came softly into the quiet room. Mrs.
Stanhope raised her head, and, as she returned the kindly greeting, her
grief broke out, and she exclaimed with sobs:--

"Oh, if you knew ho