exclaimed, throwing herself back on her pillows; "I shall be worried to
death at last."

Mellen was anxious to soothe her, and against his judgment submitted.

"I'll go, darling; I'll go."

"Good Grant; kind brother! Send Victoria to me; I will be all dressed
when you come back."

Mellen went out and called the servant, then he passed downstairs, and
in the hall met Tom, who rushed towards him, exclaiming:

"The woman says Elsie is very sick; is she better; what is it?"

"She is much better; don't be frightened; she will be downstairs in a
few minutes."

"Thank God," muttered Tom, his face still white with fears that Victoria
had aroused.

Mellen was too much preoccupied to notice his extreme agitation, or
speculate upon its cause if he had observed it.

"I only got back this afternoon," said Tom, "and I hurried over here at
once. How is Bessie?"

"She--she is not at home," faltered Mellen.

"Not at home and Elsie sick?"

"She was gone," said Mellen, "and I did not send for her."

Tom was too much troubled about Elsie to reflect long upon anything
else, and directly Mellen broke from his eager questions, saying:

"Go into the library, Tom; I'll bring Elsie down."

He went upstairs, and knocked at his sister's door.

"You may come in," Elsie called out; "I am ready."

When he entered she was sitting up in an easy chair, wrapped in a pretty
dressing-gown of pink merino, braided and trimmed after her own fanciful
ideas, a white shawl thrown over her shoulders, the flossy hair shading
her face, and looking altogether quite another creature.

For the first time since Elizabeth's departure, a feeling of relief
loosened the oppression on Mellen's heart.

"You look so well again; God bless you, darling!"

"Of course I'm pretty!" she cried childishly, pointing to herself in the
glass. "I shall make a nice little visitor."

"You will always be one, my sunbeam," he said.

She shivered a little at his words, but she would not permit herself to
think, determined to have her old carelessness, her old peace back, if
she could grasp it.

"How is Tom?" she asked.

"Dreadfully anxious about you, poor fellow."

"Did he ask for Bessie?"

"Yes--yes."

"But you said nothing?"

"No, Elsie; he knows nothing."

"That is right," she said; "I can tell him better than you. Be kind to
him, Grant."

"Yes, dear; he saved your life; Tom is very dear to me; poor fellow."

"I am to be a visitor, remember," she