"He learned it in a new way as he lay upon his bed," said Cecilia. "It was that from which he took comfort at the last. Many a time he said to me, he had nothing else in which to trust." "And, Fred love, we must not grieve too much. Think how glad mama must be to see him there," said Selina. All this, and more, was told on that first Sunday morning, but Frederica was not told that day that they had brought her father's body home. Careless as he had in the old days been about all that did not minister to his own pleasure, in the time of suffering his heart turned with longing unspeakable to those he had left behind, and strange to say, he had entreated to be taken back, to be laid by the side of the wife he had too often neglected and forgotten. And so they had brought him home. "And did papa ask you to come and take care of us? It was very good in you to come." "Col. Bentham came to take care of you, and Edgar is to help him. My husband and I came because we wished so much to see you, and because we hoped we might have you home with us for a little while. But that will be decided later." Frederica had not spoken all this time. She was afraid if she said a word she would break into tears and sobs beyond her power to stay, as had happened once or twice before. But when their brother Edgar came in, she gave a cry, and clasped her sister's hand. "He is so like papa," she uttered faintly. "Is he?" said Selina. "I have not seen him yet." She took her brother's hand, pressing her own small fingers softly and rapidly over it, and then over his face and hair. "Is he like papa?" asked she doubtingly. "Like, and yet not like," said Cecilia, and Frederica said the same. But neither of them said that the likeness was of features only, or of expression. "Are you better?" asked he of Frederica. "Do you know that it was I who prescribed for you last night?" "Are you a physician?" asked she. "I hope to be one some day. Indeed, I am one already, in a way. I am going to take you into my special care, till you are the rosy little girl we used to hear of long ago." Frederica shook her head sadly. "I am quite changed. I never used to know what it was to be tired. Now I can do nothing, and I am so foolish, that the least thing makes me cry. I am quite ashamed." "But all that is to be changed now that I am come to take care of you. You will soon be well and strong again." And so they talked on, till they were on friendly and familiar terms with each other; and Frederica, reassured and comparatively cheerful, was able without undue excitement to make the acquaintance of Cecilia's husband, when later he and Col. Bentham came in together. "Fred love," said Selina, "tell them about Charlie and Hubert." "Ought I, Selina? must I? I am afraid everybody will think I have been very foolish--perhaps wrong." "We were alone, and frightened," said Selina. "And there was no one to tell us what we ought to do."