ed again a little while afterwards. "Do let me go!" and her
mother could not resist the beseeching tones. She arose, and at that
moment an elderly woman entered the room--a woman who looked so
exquisitely neat that one would have thought that she had no other
business in life than that of keeping in perfect order her gray hair,
with its snow-white cap, and her simple, spotless dress; but, on the
contrary, she was the house-keeper, and had the whole charge of the big
house, with all its complicated domestic arrangements. Both mother and
daughter exclaimed on seeing her, "Oh, Clarissa, how glad I am that
you've come!" And both began to ask her opinion as to the visit to the
garden, which the invalid so longed for, but which her mother hesitated
to grant.

Clarissa was a person of rare character, and a tower of strength in this
household, where, from the lady of the house down to the lowest servant,
her word was followed as law and obeyed with affection; and one took
into the clear depths of her honest, loving eyes explained the secret of
her power: they were "Mother's eyes."

"Say 'yes,' Clarissa, and let us go," begged the child, pathetically.

"The air is soft, all the birds are singing and calling us: why should
we not try it to-day, dear Mrs. Stanhope?" said Clarissa.

"Yes; if you think best, we will," answered the mother. And Frederic,
the tall footman, was summoned to carry the little girl down the long
staircase and out of the house. Then, once out-of-doors, the two women,
supporting the child tenderly between them, led her through the sunny
garden.

"Nora, are you happy now?" asked the mother, tenderly.

"Yes; it is beautiful here," replied the child; "but I should like to go
down to the stone bench by the river-side, where the branches dip into
the water."

So they went on over the green terraces to the water-side, down to the
seat almost hidden under the lindens, among the clusters of whose
pendent, sweet-smelling blossoms the bees were busy, mingling their deep
murmur with the song which the Rhine sang in passing. Nora's eyes
followed the dancing waves that seemed like living, happy sprites.

"Oh! how I wish that I could leap and dance so, mamma! away! away! but I
am so tired; I am always tired. I long to hop about as the birds do up
in the trees there, and sing and be merry; but I am always so tired."

"My darling, when you are stronger you will dance," replied her mother,
in a cheerful tone; but he