ng! my darling!" again and again repeated the nurse.

"I thought it was daylight--long after sunrise. It looks dark. Is the
moon now set?"

That moon, lately risen, was gazing full and mild upon her. Floating in
deep blue space, it watched her unclouded.

"Then it is not morning? I am not at the cottage? Who is this? I see a
shape at my bedside."

"It is myself--it is your friend--your nurse--your---- Lean your head on
my shoulder. Collect yourself." In a lower tone--"O God, take pity! Give
_her_ life, and _me_ strength! Send me courage! Teach me words!"

Some minutes passed in silence. The patient lay mute and passive in the
trembling arms, on the throbbing bosom of the nurse.

"I am better now," whispered Caroline at last, "much better. I feel
where I am. This is Mrs. Pryor near me. I was dreaming. I talk when I
wake up from dreams; people often do in illness. How fast your heart
beats, ma'am! Do not be afraid."

"It is not fear, child--only a little anxiety, which will pass. I have
brought you some tea, Cary. Your uncle made it himself. You know he says
he can make a better cup of tea than any housewife can. Taste it. He is
concerned to hear that you eat so little; he would be glad if you had a
better appetite."

"I am thirsty. Let me drink."

She drank eagerly.

"What o'clock is it, ma'am?" she asked.

"Past nine."

"Not later? Oh! I have yet a long night before me. But the tea has made
me strong. I will sit up."

Mrs. Pryor raised her, and arranged her pillows.

"Thank Heaven! I am not always equally miserable, and ill, and hopeless.
The afternoon has been bad since Hortense went; perhaps the evening may
be better. It is a fine night, I think? The moon shines clear."

"Very fine--a perfect summer night. The old church-tower gleams white
almost as silver."

"And does the churchyard look peaceful?"

"Yes, and the garden also. Dew glistens on the foliage."

"Can you see many long weeds and nettles amongst the graves? or do they
look turfy and flowery?"

"I see closed daisy-heads gleaming like pearls on some mounds. Thomas
has mown down the dock-leaves and rank grass, and cleared all away."

"I always like that to be done; it soothes one's mind to see the place
in order. And, I dare say, within the church just now that moonlight
shines as softly as in my room. It will fall through the east window
full on the Helstone monument. When I close my eyes I seem to see poor
papa's epitaph in black let