changes I had seen
since leaving that sunny home!

CHAPTER XXII.

I had not been long in the conservatory when I heard the wheels of a
carriage. Mr. Bristed had returned. He ascended the steps: I heard his
voice in the hall. His first words were an inquiry after my welfare. He
was told that I was better. Passing through his apartments, he entered
the study. I could see him plainly from the windows of the conservatory.
He looked, I thought, thin and sad; his hair had become sprinkled with
gray since the time when I resided in his mansion. Turning to Mary, who
was waiting there for me, he said: "I feel faint; bring me a cup of tea."

Mary left the room on her mission, and I stole from my hiding place.

"Mr. Bristed," whispered I, coming softly up behind his chair.

He started. "Whose voice is that? Agnes, where are you?"

"Here, sir," I answered, as I touched him lightly.

He turned toward me, his face flushed with pleasure, his eyes expectant.

"You, Agnes--you, verily? How came you here? I thought you were ill off
your pillow. What pleasant trick is this you have been playing me?" Then
taking both my hands in his and surveying me, his eyes the while beaming
with soft pleasure, he said:

"Oh, I am so happy that you are better. But you are wrong to come here;
you will make yourself ill again."

I told him how I had awakened, and of my glad surprise in finding myself
in my old chamber again, and how I had insisted on coming down to thank
him for his kindness in bringing me hither.

"Don't thank me, Agnes; for you I could do anything. This place shall
always be your home. Some day, Agnes, you may learn to appreciate the
worth of a heart that truly loves you."

I fell upon my knees before him. "O Mr. Bristed, I do appreciate!" I
cried. "I do know that you love me. Let me live for you. Let me by a life
of devotion atone for the mistakes of the past!"

He lifted me up, and folded me to his breast.

CHAPTER XXIII.

A few weeks of balmy spring air and soft sunshine completely restored me
to health.

One day when strolling in company with Mr. Bristed through a path
blooming with early hyacinths and crocuses, I ventured to ask him about
my school.

"It is entirely broken up, Agnes. After the fearful tragedy that
transpired within its walls, your pupils scattered like dust in the wind.
I arrived the next morning after the death of Richard, unconscious of
what had occurred in my absence, but int