slumber on the sofa, while Meta
sat sadly presiding over the tea equipage.

She came up to meet him, her question expressed in her looks.

"Asleep," he said; "I hope the pulses are quieter. All depends on her
wakening."

"Poor, poor Flora!" said Meta, wiping away her tears.

"What have you done with the woman?"

"I sent her to Mrs. Larpent's. I knew she would receive her and keep
her till she could write to her friends. Bellairs took her, but I could
hardly speak to her--"

"She did it ignorantly," said Dr. May.

"I could never be so merciful and forbearing as you," said Meta.

"Ah! my dear, you will never have the same cause!"

They could say no more, for George awoke, and the argument of his
exclusion had to be gone through again. He could not enter into it by
any means; and when Dr. May would have made him understand that poor
Flora could not acquit herself of neglect, and that even his affection
was too painful for her in the present state; he broke into a vehement
angry defence of her devotion to her child, treating Dr. May as if the
accusation came from him; and when the doctor and Meta had persuaded him
out of this, he next imagined that his father-in-law feared that he was
going to reproach his wife, and there was no making him comprehend more
than that, if she were not kept quiet, she might have a serious illness.

Even then he insisted on going to look at her, and Dr. May could not
prevent him from pressing his lips to her forehead. She half opened her
eyes, and murmured "good-night," and by this he was a little comforted;
but he would hear of nothing but sitting up, and Meta would have done
the same, but for an absolute decree of the doctor.

It was a relief to Dr. May that George's vigil soon became a sound
repose on the sofa in the dressing-room; and he was left to read and
muse uninterruptedly.

It was far past two o'clock before there was any movement; then Flora
drew a long breath, stirred, and, as her father came and drew her hand
into his, before she was well awake, she gave a long, wondering whisper,
"Oh, papa! papa!" then sitting up, and passing her hand over her eyes,
"Is it all true?"

"It is true, my own poor dear," said Dr. May, supporting her, as she
rested against his arm, and hid her face on his shoulder, while her
breath came short, and she shivered under the renewed perception--"she
is gone to wait for you."

"Hush! Oh, don't! papa!" said Flora, her voice shortened by angui