"My child was given up three times; but I loved her; I would not let her go; she stayed with me; your child too shall stay." "May God bless you at least for the prediction!" he replied in a low tone, and, stooping, he laid his lips on her band; she coloured, and I saw Kate, then in the act of coming in, stand still with wonder on the threshold of the open door. The same day a favourable crisis took place, and when the physician called again, he pronounced me out of danger. Only Kate and Cornelius were present, and I shall never forget their joy; I do not think that if I had been their own child they could have felt a purer and deeper gladness. The happy face of Cornelius, as he bent over me and gave me a kiss, was alone something to remember. I recovered rapidly; one of my first requests was to be carried up to the studio, and, every precaution being taken that I should not get cold, it was complied with on a pleasant July morning. I looked at the picture Cornelius had begun during my illness, then I asked him to place me near the open window. It overlooked our garden and that of our tenant, Miss Russell, an old maiden lady, of whom I had never caught more than a few distant glimpses. I was accustomed to see her garden as quiet and lonely as ours, which it resembled; to my surprise I now perceived a strange group. In the honeysuckle bower sat two ladies; one read aloud to an old blind woman, who after a while said-- "That'll do for to-day, my blessed young lady." "Would you like to go in, nurse?" asked the lady very sweetly. "I think I should. You need not mind, Miss Ducky," she said, addressing the other lady, "my dear young lady will do it." The lady who had read now helped the old woman to rise, and led her in with great care. She soon returned alone, resumed her place, and read to herself from a smaller volume. She was attired in white, and with her head slightly bent, and her book on her lap, she looked as calm and still as a garden statue. The other lady was very young, a mere girl, short, pretty, fresh as a rose, and with glossy dark ringlets. She had been very restless during the reading, and had indulged in two or three little yawns. She now seemed joyous and happy at the release, and hovered around the bower light and merry as a bee. There was an airy grace about her little person that rendered motion as becoming to her as was repose to the other lady. She skipped and started about with restless vivacity; now she plucked a flower; now she stripped a shrub of its leaves; then suddenly turning round, she addressed her companion in the tones of a spoiled child: "Miriam, leave off reading! you won't?--take that!" She gathered a rose and threw it at her. Miriam raised her beautiful face, calm as the surface of unstirred waters, and said, in a voice that rose sweetly on the air-- "Child, what is it?" "Don't read." Miriam closed her book. "And come here." Miriam rose and went up to her.