He took her on long, delightful drives to places where, with a dainty little lunch and a tempting book, they would spend a few quiet hours, and then return, just weary enough to make a rest in a comfortable corner of the broad piazza the most enjoyable thing in the world, while he talked of a hundred entertaining things in the twilight. By and by he ventured to invite two or three entertaining people to go with them, and such charming little picnics and excursions as they made! They were quiet but cultivated people, and deeply interested in the fading girl, and they exerted themselves in an unobtrusive way to minister to her amusement. Almost unconsciously Editha was beguiled from her melancholy; little by little the look of tense agony faded from her face; her eyes lost their heavy, despairing look; something of animation and interest replaced her listless, preoccupied manner, and an occasional smile—albeit it was a mournful one—parted her sweet lips, which gradually began to regain something of their original color. Mr. Tressalia was very wise in all his maneuvers; everything he did was done without any apparent effort, everything moved along smoothly and naturally, and, if any one joined the party, it was brought about so quietly as to seem almost a matter of course. Her failing appetite he managed as adroitly as he did her wonderful heart; every day some tempting little bit would find its way to her room—where, owing to her health, she took her meals—just at dinner-time. It was never much at a time, just enough, and served so attractively as to make her taste, and tasting was followed by a desire to eat the whole, and then she involuntarily found herself wishing he had sent a little more. In this way she was not surfeited with anything, but a natural craving for food was gradually created, until she found herself able to eat quite a respectable meal. One day they went, as they often did, to Truro Park. Mr. Tressalia had found a cozy, retired rock, where they could sit, and talk, and read without fear of being disturbed, and see without being seen. The day was delightful, and had tempted many people abroad, and the park was filled with gay visitors. Editha, reclining on a soft shawl which Mr. Tressalia had spread over a moss-covered rock, was the picture of comfort as she listened to her companion’s rich voice as he read from a new and interesting book, while her face involuntarily lighted as she caught the sound of merry laughter and children’s happy voices in the distance. She found herself wondering if she could be the same miserable creature that she had been three weeks before. A feeling of peace was stealing over her, a sense of care and protection surrounded her, and she knew that health and strength were gradually returning to her. Her heart was still wounded and sore—it could not be otherwise; but there was not quite the intolerable burden crushing her that there had been before the coming of her kind friend.