he
perception how often I exasperated you.'

'An angel who did his duty by me would have exasperated me in your
place.'

'Yes, that was one error of mine. I thrust myself in against the wishes
of your nearest relative.'

'My thanklessness has made you feel that.'

'Don't talk on, dear one--you are exhausting yourself.'

'A little more I must say before I can sleep under your roof in peace,
then I will obey you in all things. Honor, these few years have shown me
what your education did for me against my will. What would have become
of me if I had been left to the poor Castle Blanch people? Nothing could
have saved me but my spirit of contradiction! No; all that saved my
father's teaching from dying out in me--all that kept me at my worst from
the Charteris standard, all that has served me in my recent life, was
what you did for me! There! I have told you only the truth.'

Honor could only kiss her and whisper something of unlooked-for
happiness, and Lucilla's tears flowed again at the tenderness for which
she had learnt to hunger; but it was a gentle shower this time, and she
let herself be hushed into calmness, till she slept peacefully on Honor's
bed, in Honor's arms, as she had never done, even as a young child.
Honor watched her long, in quiet gladness and thankfulness, then likewise
slept; and when awakened at last by a suppressed cough, looked up to see
the two stars of blue eyes, soft and gentle under their swollen lids,
gazing on her full of affection.

'I have wakened you,' Lucy said.

'Have you been awake long?'

'Not very; but to lie and look at the old windows, and smell the cedar
fragrance, and see you, is better than sleep.'

Still the low morning cough and the pallor of the face filled Honor with
anxiety; and though Lucilla attributed much to the night's agitation, she
was thoroughly languid and unhinged, and fain to lie on the sofa in the
cedar parlour, owning that no one but a governess could know the full
charm of doing nothing.

The physician was the same who had been consulted by her father, and well
remembered the flaxen-haired child whom he had so cruelly detached from
his side. He declared her to be in much the same reduced and enfeebled
condition as that in which her father brought on his malady by reckless
neglect and exposure, and though he found no positive disease in
progress, he considered that all would depend upon anxious care, and
complete rest for the autumn and winte