‘Edward! Edward!’ she was whispering in a feverish, uncertain manner, ‘where are you? It is so dark here and so cold. Put out your hand and lead me. I want to come to you, darling; I want to come to you.’ I stretched out my own hand and took hers. She clung to me joyfully. ‘Is it you?’ she exclaimed, in the undisturbed voice of a sleep-walker. ‘Have I found you again? Oh, Edward! I have been trying to find you for so long—so long, and I thought we were parted for ever.’ I drew her gently along to her own room and put her in her bed, whilst she continued to talk to me in the fond, low tones in which she thought she was addressing her dead husband. * * * * * Bessie slept through it all. Of course I told her all about it next day, and equally, of course, she did not believe half what I said. She did not like the idea of parting with her cherished grievance in the shape of the ghost, nor having the trouble of changing her wet nurse. So I left her, as soon as ever Dick arrived, rather disgusted with the manner in which she had received my efforts for her good, but still determined to do what I could in the way of befriending Mrs Graham. As I told her the last thing, when I ran up to the nursery to say good-bye to little Dick, and received her grateful thanks in reply. ‘Only nothing,’ she said with a deep sigh, ‘could ever do her any good in this world again.’ ‘But I’m determined to get her out of Poplar Farm,’ I said to Dick, as we drove homeward, after I had told him this long-winded story. ‘She’s killing the baby and herself too. She ought to have a much more cheerful home and active employment. Now, can’t you think of something for her to do about the gaol or the hospital, like a dear, darling old boy as you are?’ ‘Well, I don’t quite see how you can take Mrs Maclean’s servant away from her against her will, Dolly. If Mrs Graham leaves, it will be a different thing; but as things are, I’m afraid you ought not to interfere.’ I called him a wretch; but I knew he was right for all that, and determined to take his advice and wait patiently to see how things turned out. And, as it happened, I had not long to wait, for a week afterwards I received this doleful epistle from Bessie:— ‘MY DEAR DOLLY,—I am perfectly miserable; nothing ever goes right with me. Tom threw Charlie out of the wheel-barrow yesterday, and cut his forehead right across. He will be scarred for life. And nurse has entirely spoiled those frocks you were so kind as to cut out for Lily and Bessie. She is so obstinate, she would have her own way, and the children positively cannot get into them. But the worst news of all is, that Mrs Graham is going to leave me, and I have had to wean baby, and put him on the bottle.’