The clock struck three and the morning was coming on apace. All was cool and quiet in the room; and another hour passed slowly by; and in the sweet light of the early dawn the night taper on the hearth burned dimly. Miss Conyers arose and put it out. And then she went to the windows and opened them all to let in the light and air of the lovely summer morning. Then she went to the bedside to examine the condition of her charge. And she saw a change that caused her heart to leap for joy! a change for the better, slight, but so decided that she knew the crisis had passed favorably—that physicians and friends had all really been mistaken—that youth and constitution had conquered, and that she, whom they had all called the “dying girl,” was about to recover. True, Erminie lay as still as she had lain for twenty-four hours; but not as cold or death-like. Her face was calm; her flesh was soft, warm and moist; and her breathing was low, gentle and regular. “Thank God, thank God!” breathed Britomarte, sinking on her knees to offer up this ovation of gratitude. “What is it?” murmured Elfie. “SHE WILL LIVE!” joyfully exclaimed Britomarte, rising from her knees. “Oh, thank Heaven! Oh, what a happiness for Justin and for us all!” exclaimed Elfie, in full sympathy. “But now, my dear,” said Miss Conyers, “I must retire a little from the bedside. Her coma has passed into healthful sleep, from which she will presently awake. And when she does awake, she must not, just at first, see me, whom she is not prepared to see by her bedside. The surprise might hurt her.” “Certainly, I will take your place here,” answered Elfie. And they were about to effect the change, when a sweet, low voice stole on their ears: “Britomarte, dear Britomarte, is that you, love? When did you arrive?” And calmly, sweetly, naturally, Erminie turned her gentle eyes and held out her thin hand to welcome her friend. “My own best loved, my darling, my angel, I am so happy to see you better,” murmured Miss Conyers, with tremulous tones and tearful eyes. “And I—I am so very glad to see you, too. Have the servants attended to your wants and made you comfortable? Is your room arranged to your liking?” affectionately inquired Erminie, whose first thoughts on recovering her consciousness were for the welfare of others. Her voice was faint, but clear and calm and well sustained as she spoke. “They have made me very comfortable, dear girl. Don’t disquiet yourself,” replied Miss Conyers, tenderly stroking Erminie’s hair. “I know the best regulated households will get out of order when the mistress is ill. And I have been very ill; but, thank Heaven, I am better now.” “Yes, thank Heaven, you are better now, sweet friend.” “And you are sure you have not been neglected?” “Quite sure, dear. You know that Elfie has been ‘acting’ mistress during your illness.”