ite, which I am
doing, sitting beside little Bertram, who is asleep.--I am

"Your mother's affectionate aunt, and always affectionately yours,

"CHRISTIAN GRANT."

Valentine read the letter, and thought that if it had not been for two
or three picnic parties that he had on hand, he would have gone down to
his old home, to see whether he could be of use to John Mortimer. He
wrote to him, and resolved to wait a day or two; but he heard nothing
till after the succeeding Sunday; then a telegram came from Emily:--"Two
of John's children are extremely ill. I think your presence might be
useful."

Emily had come home then.

Valentine set forth at once, and reached John Mortimer's house in the
afternoon. A doctor's carriage stood at the door; a strange
lady--evidently a nurse--passed through the hall; people were quietly
moving about, but they seemed too anxious, and too much occupied to
observe him.

At last Emily came down.

"Is Johnnie worse?" asked Valentine.

"Yes; but I wanted you to help us with John. Oh, such a disaster! On the
third night after the accident, just before I arrived--for Dorothea had
sent for me--every one in the house was greatly tired; but Johnnie and
Anastasia were both thought better; so much better that the doctors said
if there was no change during the night, they should consider dear
little Nancy quite out of danger. Giles and Dorothea had gone home. The
nurse sent for was not come. John knew how fatigued the whole household
was, and all who were sitting up. He had not been able to take any sleep
himself, and he was restlessly pacing up and down in the garden,
watching and listening under the open windows. It was very hot.

"He fancied about three o'clock that there had been a long silence in
Anastasia's room. She was to have nourishment frequently. He stole
up-stairs, found the person with her asleep from fatigue, gave the child
some jelly himself, and then finding her medicine, as he supposed, ready
poured out in the wine-glass, he gave it to her, and discovered almost
instantly a mistake. The sad imprudence had been committed of pouring
the lotion for the child's temples into a wine-glass, to save the
trouble of ringing for a saucer. The child was almost out of danger
before that terrible night; but when I came home there was scarcely a
hope of her life, and her father was almost distracted. I mean that,
though he seems perfectly calm, never loses his self-control, he is very
often n