The purse had not been touched, and, hastily counting the contents to see that all the bills were there, she relocked the drawer and returned to the sickroom with anything but a calm face. Clara seemed to be asleep, and, picking up a book, Beulah began to read. A sickroom is always monotonous and dreary, and long confinement had rendered Beulah restless and uncomfortable. Her limbs ached--so did her head, and continued loss of sleep made her nervous to an unusual degree. She longed to open her melodeon and play; this would have quieted her, but of course was not to be thought of, with four invalids in the house and death on almost every square in the city. She was no longer unhappy about Clara, for there was little doubt that, with care, she would soon be well, and thus drearily the hours wore on. Finally Clara evinced a disposition to talk. Her nurse discouraged it, with exceedingly brief replies; intimating that she would improve her condition by going to sleep. Toward evening Clara seemed much refreshed by a long nap, and took some food which had been prepared for her. "The sickness is abating, is it not, Beulah?" "Yes, very perceptibly; but more from lack of fresh victims than anything else. I hope we shall have a white frost soon." "It has been very horrible! I shudder when I think of it," said Clara. "Then don't think of it," answered her companion. "Oh, how can I help it? I did not expect to live through it. I was sure I should die when that chill came on. You have saved me, dear Beulah!" Tears glistened in her soft eyes. "No; God saved you." "Through your instrumentality," replied Clara, raising her friend's hand to her lips. "Don't talk any more; the doctor expressly enjoined quiet for you." "I am glad to owe my recovery to him also. How noble and good he is- -how superior to everybody else!" murmured the sick girl. Beulah's lips became singularly compact, but she offered no comment. She walked up and down the room, although so worn out that she could scarcely keep herself erect. When the doctor came she escaped unobserved to her room, hastily put on her bonnet, and ran down the steps for a short walk. It was perfect Elysium to get out once more under the pure sky and breathe the air, as it swept over the bay, cool, sweet, and invigorating. The streets were still quiet, but hearses and carts, filled with coffins, no longer greeted her on every side, and she walked for several squares. The sun went down, and, too weary to extend her ramble, she slowly retraced her steps. The buggy no longer stood at the door, and, after seeing Mrs. Hoyt and trying to chat pleasantly, she crept back to Clara. "Where have you been?" asked the latter. "To get a breath of fresh air and see the sun set." "Dr. Hartwell asked for you. I did not know what had become of you." "How do you feel to-night?" said Beulah, laying her hand softly on Clara's forehead.