Aesculapius was right. Within a week, the tender graces, and kindness, and soft ways of the young girl, had made way in the heart of the old woman which you would have never suspected, and she afterwards could hardly bear her out of her sight. Lizzie and the dowager were on the most affectionate footing. She, winning, ministering like an angel of mercy: the old lady accepting all her kindness, not saying much in words, but feeling in her heart an unknown love towards this little girl, who was winding herself into her affections in spite of herself. And Lizzie, you may be sure, was happy--happy at doing good--happy at ministering to affliction; above all, happy at helping Tom's mother. Thus did Andromeda's grief lessen: thus was she able to bear all the snapping and snarling of the old campaigner at home. This was her source of balm, which you might never have suspected. It was a strange association between the two: between the dowager of former days, with her harsh voice and querulous temper, and the gentle little girl who had won Tom's love. There never would have been, one would think, any sympathy or companionship; but the dowager was very much altered now. "Wonders will never cease," says the proverb; and Solomon adds, that "there is nothing new under the sun." Consequently putting that and that together, as the old folks say, we ought not to be surprised at this unexpected _rapport_ between Tom's mother and Lizzie. Far more wonderful than that wonderful recovery of reason poor Susan Hartshorne, under Markworth's superintending care, was this change in the dowager, and the amelioration in her temper. But sickness and mental anxiety work strange changes! She _was_ changed! When the old lady's recollection came back, she grieved very much over the death of her daughter, and seemed to accuse herself on that account. She told Lizzie that if she had not been so harsh and unlike a mother to Susan, all the past might never have happened. Lizzie tried to soothe her self-reproaches somewhat ineffectually, but when Dr Jolly combatted the old lady's arguments, and had a long explanation with her, the dowager seemed much relieved, although she would express fervent hopes of seeing her daughter again--in heaven, and she did not any longer fret so much about Susan as she had done. The old lady's thoughts and conversation after this turned on her dear Tom principally. Mrs Hartshorne was a very shrewd old lady, and as she got better her old shrewdness returned. She had not by any means forgotten the name of Miss Lizzie Pringle. She remembered very well Tom's explanation with reference to that young lady and his crude ideas of wishing to get married; after a time she startled Lizzie nearly out of her seven little senses, by abruptly mentioning the subject, asking her what arrangement she had come to with Tom, and if they were still engaged.