nd
speaking with a voice so low that it only just reached his ears.

"Thank you, Miss Staveley; I shall never know how to express what I
feel for you all."

"And there's none of 'em have been more anxious about you than she,
I can tell you; and none of 'em ain't kinder-hearteder," said Mrs.
Baker.

"I hope you will be up soon and be able to come down to the
drawing-room," said Madeline. And then she did glance round, and for
a moment saw the light of his eye as he sat upright in the bed. He
was still pale and thin, or at least she fancied so, and her heart
trembled within her as she thought of the danger he had passed.

"I do so long to be able to talk to you again; all the others come
and visit me, but I have only heard the sounds of your footsteps as
you pass by."

"And yet she always walks like a mouse," said Mrs. Baker.

"But I have always heard them," he said. "I hope Marian thanked you
for the books. She told me how you had gotten them for me."

"She should not have said anything about them; it was Augustus who
thought of them," said Madeline.

"Marian comes to me four or five times a day," he continued; "I do
not know what I should do without her."

"I hope she is not noisy," said Madeline.

"Laws, miss, he don't care for noise now, only he ain't good at
moving yet, and won't be for some while."

"Pray take care of yourself, Mr. Graham," she said; "I need not
tell you how anxious we all are for your recovery. Good night, Mr.
Graham." And then she passed on to her mother's dressing-room, and
sitting herself down in an arm-chair opposite to the fire began to
think--to think, or else to try to think.

And what was to be the subject of her thoughts? Regarding Peregrine
Orme there was very little room for thinking. He had made her an
offer, and she had rejected it as a matter of course, seeing that she
did not love him. She had no doubt on that head, and was well aware
that she could never accept such an offer. On what subject then was
it necessary that she should think?

How odd it was that Mr. Graham's room door should have been open
on this especial evening, and that nurse should have been standing
there, ready to give occasion for that conversation! That was the
idea that first took possession of her brain. And then she recounted
all those few words which had been spoken as though they had had some
special value--as though each word had been laden with interest. She
felt half ashamed of what she