e enjoyed excellent health, fell
rather seriously ill. She had a sharp attack of bronchitis, and instead
of terminating in two or three weeks, as she confidently expected, the
disease lingered about her, and at last settled into a chronic form, and
made her quite an invalid.

Both Edith and Stimson had a hard time while Miss Harley was at the
worst. Unaccustomed to illness, she proved a very difficult patient, and
kept niece and maid continually running up and downstairs, and
ministering to her real and fancied wants.

The warm, shut-up room where she now spent so many hours tried Edith
greatly, and she longed inexpressibly sometimes for the free air of her
dear Winchcomb fields, and the open doors and windows of the old house
at home. Life at Silchester had always been trying to her; it became
much more so when she had to devote herself constantly to an exacting
invalid, who never seemed to think that young minds and eyes and hands
needed rest and recreation--something over and above continued work and
study.

Even when she was almost too ill to listen, Aunt Rachel insisted on the
hours of daily reading; she made Edith get through long tasks of
household needlework, and, to use her own expression, "kept her niece to
her duties" quite as rigidly in sickness as in health.

Then, when it seemed to Edith that she really must give up, and
petition for at least a few weeks at home, came a letter from her
father, containing some very surprising news. A distant relative had
died, and quite unexpectedly had left Dr. Harley a considerable legacy.

"I am very glad to tell you," wrote her father, "that I shall now be
relieved from all the pecuniary anxieties that have pressed upon me so
heavily for the last few years. Your mother and I would now be very glad
to have you home again, unless you feel that you are better and happier
where you are. We owe your Aunt Rachel very many thanks for all her
kindness, but we think she will agree that, now the chief reason for
your absence from home is removed, your right place is with your
brothers and sisters."

To go home! How delightful it would be! That was Edith's first thought;
but others quickly followed. What would Aunt Rachel say? Would she
really be sorry to lose her niece, or would she perhaps feel relieved of
a troublesome charge, and glad to be left alone with her faithful
Stimson, as she had been before?

"I must speak to my aunt about it at once," thought Edith. "And no