Isla was circling round and round the room with light, swift motions, like a bird’s; her arms were outspread, her finger-tips brushed the walls as she sped by, and it was like the brushing of wings. Her long russet hair, unbraided, waved about her shoulders; her eyes seemed to lighten the dusky room, where the twilight was already falling. Now and then she turned to smile at Jacob, to flutter to the bed and take him in her arms for a moment; then turned again to her bird-like flight, skimming the ground as a swallow skims the sea. You would have said, a bird imprisoned in human form, shut within walls, and trying with all its wild nature to escape its bonds. Her face turned bright on the little brother, but, when it was away from him, the loneliness, the longing, were pitiful to see. The trustee, standing well back in the shadow, touched his companion on the arm with a glance of inquiry; what did this mean? She shook her head, and he was glad to see her eyes full of tears. His own heart ached, as if he were watching a sylvan creature in pain. Suddenly the girl paused, tired, or desperate, hung for a moment at the window, gazing out at the roofs and chimney-pots, and the strip of blue sky above them; then dropped on the ground and sat bowed together, her face in her hands, rocking to and fro. Miss Stewart stepped into the room, and laid her hand gently on the child’s shoulder. At the first tread, Isla raised her head, then dropped it again. A strong shudder went through her, and her breath came fast; but only for an instant. It was a different face that she raised to Miss Stewart now, in answer to the kindly pressure, the troubled sign of inquiry. Gentle, quiet, a little anxious, perhaps, with a smile that sought to propitiate; this was the Isla that Miss Stewart knew. At the teacher’s sign, she rose quickly, and came forward to greet the stranger. She took the hand he held out, and gazed at him intently; her eyes were full of liquid light, but behind the light, what shadow lay? suspicion, fear, expectation, as of something long dreaded? What could it be? And as the trustee looked in amazement into these gleaming, watchful eyes, that braved, yet shrank from him,—why, what was this? He had fancied it all! The girl’s look was only winning, only timid, anxious to please, perhaps a little shy of a stranger; assuredly the sweetest look he had seen in human eyes. “God bless you, my dear child!” he said, hastily. And the principal felt that Isla was certainly improving in lip-reading, for she brightened at the words, and smiled more joyously, and led the way to little Jacob’s bed. CHAPTER X. JOE’S TREASURY.