"Good bye; don't fail to come in again before you go?" said Edith. "I shall come," he said, kissing her lily hand; after which he lay it down with the greatest reluctance. Then he left her, with a world of thrilling emotions consuming him. Seeing no one in the hallway, he proceeded alone down the stairs to the parlor, there to be met by the gloomy countenances of Edith's loving parents, who were at that moment in such a distracted state of mind that they almost collapsed over wrong expectations over this singular meeting of their daughter with John Winthrope. Both rose as they saw John approaching, and sighed. "How is she?" both asked together. "Better," was John's response. Mr. Jarney took John by the hand, and said: "How greatly relieved I am." Mrs. Jarney did not wait for further information; but ran up the stairs, and went headlong into her daughter's room. "Oh, my child! my child!" she cried in the excess of her joy, seeing the token of rationality in Edith's face. She fell on the bed by Edith's side, almost in a faint, throwing her arms about her. Edith was not in condition to withstand such a stormy outburst of motherly affection. Star, understanding the bad effect such extreme commotion might have upon her charge, persuaded Mrs. Jarney to be calm, and all would be well. "Did you know him, Edith?" asked her mother, still mentally agitated. "Yes, mamma," replied Edith, so low she could hardly be heard. "Was it he that effected a cure, Edith?" "Oh, mamma, I am not well yet," said Edith; "and it may be a long time before I get out of this." "Was it he, Edith, that brought about the crisis?" persisted the mother. "It might have been, mamma," said Edith. "Edith, are you keeping a secret from me?" pursued her mother. "Dear mamma, I cannot bear up, if you keep on," whispered Edith, growing restless. "Mrs. Jarney, it would be best not to disturb her any more; she needs sleep," said Star, advisedly.