When Sarah returned to her home that night, she felt that sense of relief which any one who has led a monotonous life for months must have experienced, when some sudden event has changed its whole current, and given a new coloring to things that before appeared tame and insignificant. During the following days Sarah was a frequent visitor at Mr. Danforth's house, and after that, circumstances occurred which drew her into still more intimate companionship with her new friend. One of Madame Monot's house-servants was taken ill with typhus fever, and most of the young ladies left the school for a few weeks. Mrs. Danforth insisted upon Sarah's making her home at their house during the interval, an invitation which she accepted with the utmost delight. Mr. Danforth still lingered--could speak and move--but the favorable symptoms which at first presented themselves had entirely disappeared, and there was little hope given that he could do more than linger for a month or two longer. During that painful season Mrs. Danforth found in Sarah a sympathizing and consoling friend. The sick man himself became greatly attached to her, and could not bear that she should even leave his chamber. The young girl was very happy in feeling herself thus prized and loved, and the quick weeks spent in that old house were perhaps among the happiest of her life, in spite of the saddening associations which surrounded her. One morning while she was sitting with the old gentleman, who had grown so gentle and dependent that those who had known him in former years would scarcely have recognized him, Mrs. Danforth entered the room, bearing several letters in her hand. "European letters, my dear," she said to her husband, and while she put on her glasses and seated herself to read them, Sarah stole out into the garden. She had not been there long, enjoying the fresh loveliness of the day, before she heard Mrs. Danforth call her. "Sarah, my dear; Sarah." The girl went back to the door where the old lady stood. "Share a little good news with me in the midst of all our trouble," she said; "my dear boy--my grandson--is coming home." Sarah's first thought was one of regret--every thing would be so changed by the arrival of a stranger; but that was only a passing pang of selfishness; her next reflection was one of unalloyed delight, for the sake of that aged couple. "I am very glad, dear madame; his coming will do his grandfather so much good." "Yes, indeed; more than all the doctors in the world." "When do you expect him?" "Any day, now; he was to sail a few days after the ship that brought these letters, and as this vessel has been detained by an accident, he can not be far away." "I am to go back to school to-day," said Sarah, regretfully.