Gliding to the bedside, she stood a moment gazing upon the beautiful face nestled among the snowy pillows. The eyes were closed, and the long, silken lashes shaded the fair, round cheek, not one half so white as Anna’s, notwithstanding that a spasm of pain occasionally distorted the regular features, and wrung a faint cry from the pretty lips. Masses of soft black curls were pushed back from the forehead, and one hand lay outside the counterpane, a little soft, fat hand, on whose fourth finger shone the engagement ring, the seal of her betrothal to the heir of Castlewild! Oh, how debased and wicked Anna felt standing by that innocent girl, and how she marveled that having known Mildred Atherton, Herbert Dunallen could ever have turned to her. Involuntarily a sigh escaped her lips, and at the sound the soft black eyes unclosed, and looked at her wonderingly. Then a smile broke over the fair face, and extending her hand to Anna, Mildred said, “Where am I? My head feels so confused. I remember the horses reared when that flash of lightning came, the carriage was overturned, and some young man, who seemed a second Apollo in strength and beauty, brought me in somewhere so gently and carefully, that I could have hugged him for it, he was so good. Are you his sister!” “No, I am Anna Burroughs. He came for me,” Anna replied, and looking her full in the face, Mildred continued, “Yes, I remember now, his nurse or housekeeper told me he had gone for the girl who was to be his wife; and you are she. It’s pleasant to be engaged, isn’t it?” and Mildred’s hand gave Anna’s a little confidential squeeze, which, quite as much as the words she had uttered, showed how affectionate and confiding was her disposition. The entrance of the physician put an end to the conversation, and withdrawing to a little distance where in the shadow she could not be well observed Anna stood while the doctor examined the swollen ankle, and his volatile patient explained to him in detail how it all happened, making herself out quite a heroine for courage and presence of mind, asking if he knew Mrs. Harcourt, and if next morning he would not be kind enough to let her know that Mildred Atherton was at the cottage. The doctor promised whatever she asked, and was about to leave the room, when Adam stepped forward and said, “Is there any one else whom Miss Atherton would like to see—any friend in the neighborhood who ought to be informed?” Eagerly Anna waited for the answer, watching half jealously the crimson flush stealing over Mildred’s face, as she replied, “Not to-night; it would do no good; to-morrow is soon enough. I never like to make unnecessary trouble.” The head which had been raised while Mildred spoke to Adam lay back upon the pillow, but not until with a second thought the sweet voice had said to him, “I thank you, sir, you are so kind.”