inquiries there, Lucy bade
Mrs. Williams good-day, feeling sure that Nelly's conduct had been
misrepresented,--an opinion shared by Stella, who had taken a strong
dislike to the woman's grim demeanour and spiteful tone,--and very
sorry for having lost the only clue to her _protegee_ once more.

XIII.

_A Friendship._

"We had been girlish friends,
With hearts that, like the summer's half-oped buds,
Grew close, and hived their sweetness for each other."

Lucy and Amy were soon settled in Mrs. Browne's pleasant little
cottage at Oakvale, a pretty sheltered village surrounded by hills,
clothed principally with noble oaks, whence it derived its name. Mrs.
Browne's house lay a little way out of the village, amid green fields
and lanes, which, after the hot, dusty city streets, were
inexpressibly refreshing to Lucy, recalling old times at Ashleigh.

Mrs. Browne was a kind, motherly person, a doctor's widow, herself
possessing a good deal of medical skill, which rendered her house
especially eligible for invalids, and she established a careful watch
over little Amy, whose very precarious condition her practised eye saw
at a glance. Whenever the child, feeling better than usual, would have
overtasked her failing strength in the quiet country rambles, which
were such a delightful novelty to one who had scarcely ever been
really in the country before, and when Lucy's inexperience might have
allowed her to injure herself without knowing it, Mrs. Browne would
interpose a gentle warning, which was always cheerfully obeyed. It was
with some surprise, indeed, that she noticed with what perfect
submission the little girl bore all the deprivations of innocent
pleasure which her weak state compelled, as well as the feverish
languor which often oppressed her in the hot August days. This
submission arose from the implicit belief which, child as she was, she
had, that everything that befell her was ordered by the kind Saviour,
who would send nothing that was not for her real good. Such a belief,
fully realized, would soon relieve most of us from the fretting cares
and corroding anxieties that arise from our "taking thought" about
things we cannot control.

"I never saw a child like her," Mrs. Browne would say; "indeed, she's
more like an angel than a child, and it's my belief she'll soon be one
in reality. And I'm sure heaven's more the place for her than this
rough world."

However, Amy seemed t