ke that, when Master
Harry is come back such a bonny man!"

"I'm better now," said Mary, with an effort. "Oh, Harry! speak to me
again."

"But Margaret!" said Ethel, while the brother was holding Mary in
his embrace, and she lay tremulous with the new ecstasy upon his
breast--"but Margaret. Nurse, you must go up, or she will suspect. I'll
come when I can; speak quietly. Oh! poor Margaret! If Richard would but
come in!"

Ethel walked up and down the room, divided between a tumult of joy,
grief, dread, and perplexity. At that moment a little voice said at the
door, "Please, Margaret wants Harry to come up directly."

They looked one upon another in consternation. They had never thought of
the child, who, of course, had flown up at once with the tidings.

"Go up, Miss Ethel," said nurse.

"Oh! nurse, I can't be the first. Come, Harry, come."

Hand-in-hand, they silently ascended the stairs, and Ethel pushed open
the door. Margaret was on her couch, her whole form and face in one
throb of expectation.

She looked into Harry's face--the eagerness flitted like sunshine on the
hillside, before a cloud, and, without a word, she held out her arms.

He threw himself on his knees, and her fingers were clasped among his
thick curls, while his frame heaved with suppressed sobs, "Oh, if he
could only have come back to you."

"Thank God," she said; then slightly pushing him back, she lay holding
his hand in one of hers, and resting the other on his shoulder, and
gazing in silence into his face. Each was still--she was gathering
strength--he dreaded word or look.

"Tell me how and where;" she said at last.

"It was in the Loyalty Isles; it was fever--the exertions for us. His
head was lying here," and he pointed to his own breast. "He sent his
love to you--he bade me tell you there would be meeting by and by, in
the haven where he would be.--I laid his head in the grave--under the
great palm--I said some of the prayers--there are Christians round it."

He said this in short disconnected phrases, often pausing to gather
voice, but forced to resume, by her inquiring looks and pressure of his
hand.

She asked no more. "Kiss me," she said, and when he had done so, "Thank
you, go down, please, all of you. You have brought great relief. Thank
you. But I can't talk yet. You shall tell me the rest by and by."

She sent them all away, even Ethel, who would have lingered.

"Go to him, dearest. Let me be alone. Don't be uneasy