On the other hand, her advent was no less beneficial, in its way, to her aunt and cousins. Not to speak of the material comforts and luxuries which she managed so delicately to introduce into the sick-room, as to make them seem much like direct gifts of Providence, without any intervening hand, she brought into their forlorn, narrow, monotonous life an element of variety and interest, as well as of personal helpfulness, that was sorely needed. Mrs. Lyte soon grew to depend upon her constant presence and care scarcely less than upon Astra's. She never wearied of searching her beautiful face for fitful touches of resemblance to the darling twin sister, whose runaway marriage and subsequent death had been the great grief of her own earlier years, nor of drawing out such facts in relation to that sister's short married life, and Diva's birth, as the latter had been able to gather from others, and store in her memory. She was deeply interested, too, in Diva's own history,--her motherless childhood, her long sojourn in Europe, her art studies, her reasons for the isolated life that she had been leading of late. Especially did she delight in hearing her sing. Diva might busy herself in whatever part of the house's narrow precinct she pleased, if only her voice floated into the sick-room, and sweetened the air with the notes and words of some favorite "hymn of the ages," or the soft Italian melodies that she had learned in their native land. While the lovely voice kept on, Mrs. Lyte lay lapped in smiling content, or slept in perfect tranquillity, lulled more effectually than by any anodyne. Nor was Astra any less ready to accept her kinswoman as a timely boon and blessing. It was not only an unspeakable relief to feel a part of her heavy burden of care lifted from her shoulders by hands so willing, so tender, and with so undoubted a right to the privilege; it was also a rare delight to have such thoroughly congenial companionship. As for Cathie, her heart was easily won,--all the more that she never seemed to quite rid herself of her first impression that the new-comer was celestial rather than human, and to be adored accordingly. In short, Diva soon found for herself so fit, definite, and essential a place in all these hearts and lives as to suggest the idea that it must have been prepared expressly, and kept waiting for her--she knew not how long. Nay, more,--_she_ must have been prepared for _it_; carefully fitted, by many sad and stern circumstances, for this exchange of helpful influences, for her part in that solemn symphony of events which was rolling its profound harmonies through Mrs. Lyte's sick-chamber.