"Indeed, aunt Flora, you must go to rest; you look so pale and ill, you almost frighten me," said Lyddie. The appearance of the girl was much changed. She still looked sickly, from the effects of her own recent illness, and from her hair having been close cut during her fever; but the once wild neglected weed had not been cultivated in vain. Thought and sense were expressed in the large dark eyes beyond what might have been expected in a girl scarcely twelve years of age. All the latent tenderness of Lyddie’s nature had been called out by Mrs. Vernon; grateful affection to an earthly benefactor had become a ruling motive in the orphan’s heart, already strengthened rather than replaced by a motive yet more high and holy. The task which Flora had deemed hopeless another had performed; the once wild, wilful, untamed girl, had been brought to the feet of the Saviour. "I cannot rest," replied Flora, sadly; "and you, Lyddie, you have been sitting up all the night!" "No, I have been sleeping on the couch at the foot of the bed, while Ann watched by dear grandmamma. I could not bear to be far away. Now Ann is resting for a little on the couch; she has had no sleep these two nights, you know, and I am ready to call her up in a moment, if grandmamma should stir ever so little." "Is my precious mother then sleeping?" "Yes, she is sleeping now; isn’t it a comfort?--she has been so restless, as if she were in pain; but she is quite peaceful now--so very peaceful!" "Oh that I could but look at her!" faltered Flora. "I think that you might, if you crept in very softly." "If I were to awaken her!" "Oh! she does not look as if she would awake!" The simple words of the child sent a sudden, strange thrill of terror through Flora’s heart! What if that deep sleep were a sleep which could never be broken! Lady Legrange entered the silent apartment chilled with the cold, faint and dizzy with watching, her trembling limbs scarcely able to support her. The early gleam of morning, dimly seen through the half-closed shutter, mingled its light with that of the flickering, expiring night-lamp. The curtains of the invalid’s bed were drawn back to give her air--Lady Legrange again beheld her mother. She looked on the dear face, which she had not seen for years--ah! what a change time, sorrow, and sickness, had wrought there! Yet still beautiful it lay in its perfect stillness, white as the pillow on which it reclined. Every feature appeared sculptured in marble, in its calm, unearthly serenity. The lips did not move, the bosom did not heave, there was no quiver in the closed eyelids! Flora bent to listen: she could not distinguish the slightest sound--oh! the relief that even a moan would have brought to her then!