Graves' heart was touched, perhaps, as it had never been touched before, when she saw Griselda lying on the couch, with Norah asleep in her arms. Griselda was not asleep, and looking up to Graves, said, in a piteous voice: "Oh, dear Graves, I am alone now!--there is no one belonging to me but this child--we must hold together. Kiss her, Graves--gently, she may wake. Poor, poor little Norah! I have forgotten her in this day's misery. Speak to the kind people here, and ask them to let me stay with them--I can pay them. I can work for them--I was always clever with my needle." "Here is your box of jewels, my poor dear, I brought them myself; the boy has brought your clothes and a gown for to-morrow." "You forget, you forget, Graves--I must have a black gown for my father, and--for _him_--my only love. Oh! Graves--do hearts break? I feel as if mine must break--and that I must die." Graves struggled in vain with her tears: they chased each other down her furrowed cheeks. "Trust in the Lord, my dear. There may be a bow in the dark cloud--who can tell?" Then Graves went to the Miss Hoblyns, who had considerately left Griselda and the child alone together, and she arranged a bedroom at the back of the house, and placed her young mistress's possessions in some order. "The young lady will be able to pay for her lodgings and board, madam," Graves said, "and for the child's also. She has already sold some jewels, and----" But Miss Hoblyn waved her hand, as if to say she wanted nothing else said just then, and Graves proceeded to light a fire, and make the room allotted to Griselda's use as comfortable as circumstances allowed; and then, wringing Miss Hoblyn's delicate hand in her large work-worn fingers, she hastened back to North Parade. There was no immediate need for Griselda to put on a mourning garment. Distress of mind, and the long, long walk in the cold chill air of January to Claverton Down, had the effect of throwing her into an illness--a fever--which attacked her brain, and rendered her unconscious of all troubles, past and present, for some time. It was touching to see how the child, so prematurely old, and so well accustomed to privation and nursing of the sick, took up her place by her sister's bed, and proved the most efficient of little nurses--as nursing was understood in those days.