re well again,' returned the
old woman, smiling encouragingly, and smoothing the closely cropped head
tenderly.

All Estelle's lovely curly locks had been cut off. Her thin face looked
thinner than ever.

'Have I been ill?'

'Indeed you have. But you're getting better every day. Now, you must not
talk any more. Try to sleep.'

When Estelle next awoke it seemed to be night. A candle, shaded by an
open book, was burning in one corner of a low room, a fire of logs
smouldered on the hearthstone, and in the light they gave she could see
the woman asleep in an old-fashioned armchair, which had head-rests on
each side of its upright back. She looked very tired, Estelle thought.
There were deep shadows on her face, and the flickering firelight gave
it a very sad expression. Estelle wondered why she did not go to bed
instead of sitting up in a chair, wrapped in a blanket. Her eyes
wandered from the woman, round the room. She could not imagine where she
was. Never in her life had she seen such a room. It was very low, the
black ceiling making it appear even lower than it actually was. The
window was merely a square hole, without curtain or blind. The furniture
was scanty--indeed, she could see nothing but a cupboard and a table
with a basin and jug on it. The walls were black and grey, like rock,
and a thick curtain hung over what might be the door.

Staring at this curtain in puzzled astonishment, Estelle saw it move and
sway. A man entered the room with the noiseless tread of a sailor. He
was so very tall, with shoulders so broad, that he seemed to till the
little room; his head almost touched the ceiling. A neatly trimmed
sailor's beard of dark hair gave him a fierce aspect, but he did not
appear to be really fierce, for he bent very tenderly over the sleeping
woman without rousing her. Estelle watched him with great curiosity.
What did he want there? To her dismay, he soon turned round, and,
approaching the bed, looked down at her. Seeing she was awake, he put
his finger to his lips for silence; then slipping away in the same
noiseless fashion, he quickly brought her some warm milk, which he gave
her most deftly.

'Poor Mother's quite worn out,' he whispered. 'We will let her have her
sleep out. Do you want anything more? Shall I move you?'

Estelle smiled, but shook her head. She thought he would leave the room
when he found there was no more to be done, but he lay down at full
length before the fire, after putting