On the young people getting up to take leave, a painful struggle took place in Dash’s upright mind, and for some moments he stood irresolute. Between the dear young companion of his palmy days and the friend of late misfortunes the line of duty was difficult to discern;--but this friend was no longer perishing with hunger and cold, she was now in the land of plenty and almost smothered with blankets; so Dash wagged his tail to Peggy and darted after Leila. It was not easy to say which was most light of foot, as they bounded along--Dash capering and frisking in renewed health and spirits, and Leila as if she trod on air, so impatient was she to tell all to her papa; but Mr. Howard was already in possession of the joyful intelligence, as immediately on his return from London, he had been informed by Charles of all that had taken place, and of Nurse having been sent for, and they now met both on their way to Peggy’s cottage; but on hearing Leila’s account, Mr. Howard thought it better to delay his visit till the next morning, and retraced his steps with the rest of the party. As they entered the house, Leila lingered behind for a moment. “Charles,” she whispered, in an agitated voice, “if you had not told us to follow Dash, Peggy would have died. Charles, if you had been a little boy, you would not have said that.” The bright colour which before had animated her face had faded, she was pale and trembling; Charles was alarmed. “You are ill, Leila!” he exclaimed; “the agitation of all this has been too much for you.” “No, I am not ill,” she said quickly; “but I must go to papa.” She passed him hastily, and entered the library. Mr. Howard looked up--her appearance alarmed him. “Has any thing happened?” he inquired; “Leila, my child, why are you so pale?” Leila threw herself into her papa’s arms. “Nothing more has happened, papa; but I don’t know what is the matter with me; it is joy--but it is too much happiness--how can I ever thank God enough for all that He has done for me!--He has given me so many blessings. He sent me the trial, but He has taken it away from me again, and gives me more than ever joy--tenfold joy, papa--what can I say to Him--what can I do?--surely, I am most ungrateful--my heart is very full, but I feel as if I could do nothing.” “You can give your heart more entirely, my love, to Him, who has given so much for you; you can think of Him, love Him, walk with Him, and make Him more and more to you an all-sufficient Saviour.” “But, papa, what frightens me is this; I have more blessings here than I had in the island--friends, and beautiful rooms, and fortune, and every thing I could wish for--but it does not make me give my heart more to God. I used to think of God more in the island, when I saw His beautiful world all around me; here it is beautiful also, but so many pleasures, and so many people to love, take up my heart; perhaps it would be better for me if I had trials.”