On coming into the room, her eyes were at once turned toward her mother, and the first object that met their glance was the large, starry eyes fixed, as if magnetized, upon the swooping shadow on the ceiling. Margaret went at once to the fireplace and removed the lamp from the hearth to the mantelpiece, and placed an alabaster shade over it, thus reducing the spectres, and bringing the unnatural relations of shadow and substance into harmony again. Then she went softly to her mother’s side and slipped her hand into that wandering hand, that now closed fondly and contentedly upon it. The clasp of her child’s slender fingers seemed to recall the wandering senses of Mrs. Helmstedt. Her dark eyes softened from their fixed and fiery gaze, as she turned then on her loving child, murmuring: “Margaret! my little Margaret!” And presently she said: “It is time you were at rest, dear friends. Bid me good-night. Margaret will lie down here by me. And we will sleep.” No one seemed inclined to comply with this proposition, until Mrs. Helmstedt, looking annoyed, Dr. Hartley beckoned Margaret, who left her mother’s side for an instant, to hear what he had to say. “My dear child, I myself am of the opinion that we had all best retire from the room. Shall you be afraid to stay here and watch alone?” “Oh, no, doctor, no!” “‘But not alone art thou, if One above doth guide thee on thy way.’ Very well; return to your watch, my child, and be sure, upon the least sign of change, to call me quietly. I shall stay in the next room.” “Yes, doctor,” said Margaret, going softly back to her place. “Come, friends, I think we had better retire and leave this child with her mother,” said the doctor. “Bid me good-night first,” said Mrs. Helmstedt, as they all prepared to withdraw. They all drew near her bed--Mrs. Houston nearest. “You last, Nellie, you last, dear Nellie,” said Mrs. Helmstedt, as Mrs. Houston stooped to receive her kiss. One by one they bade her good-night, and left the room. Mrs. Houston, by request, lingered longer. “Come closer, Nellie--closer still--bend down,” whispered Mrs. Helmstedt, “I have one last favor to ask of you, dear Nellie. A trifle, yet I implore it. A foolish one, perhaps; for little may reck the soul, even if it survive, where or how the cast-off body lies. But do not lay me here, Nellie! Lay me at the feet of my father and mother, under the old trees at Plover’s Point. Do you promise me?” “Yes, yes, dearest Margaret,” faltered Nellie, through her gushing tears. “Now kiss me and go to bed. Good-night.” Mrs. Houston left the room, and the mother and child were once more alone together. “Are you sleepy, little Margaret?” “No, dearest mamma.”