"I have no doubt papa would be pleased, if dear mamma is well enough," answered Nellie, hardly knowing what she ought to say. "I shall come then. One does not make friends to lose them directly; and I hope we have become friends?" He looked in her face, so pale and sorrowful; and then he remembered the face he had looked upon in the water yesterday. Nellie remembered too, and a faint colour overspread her features. "You saved my life," she said gently and gravely; "I can never forget that." "Nor I," he answered; and both were silent. "Here's the train," said Maude. "Good-bye," said Wilmot, taking her hand. "Good-bye," said Nellie, "good-bye, dear Maude." When she seated herself in the train, she found herself alone, and could indulge in the luxury of being able to weep unseen. By-and-by, patience and trust reasserted themselves, and she checked her bitter tears, remembering that she would be unfit to help them at home if she arrived with a headache. Then she thought all at once that she had not had opportunity to get any little presents for them, as she had intended, and she could not help having a good cry over this, before she finally put away her tears and determined to be peaceful. "He will help me," she thought sorrowfully; "and He will help us all to bear His will. But, oh, mamma, mamma! How could I have left you?" [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XIV. REST. WHEN Nellie arrived in London that afternoon, she was met at the station by Arthur. And on her eager enquiry for their mamma, his answer was boy-like and abrupt— "As bad as can be." No need to dwell on that ride home in the cab. When they drew up at the door, Nellie gathered her things together and hastened up the steps, only longing to keep calm, and to be able to do what might be wanted. Simmons opened the door and welcomed her, but it was with a face so altered and anxious that Nellie asked no questions, but went immediately upstairs. Just outside the drawing room door she met Ada coming down to greet her. "Dear Nellie," she said, commanding herself with great effort, "mamma is very ill, papa told me to say. Will you take off your things and come in as if you had not been away." Nellie did as she was told, but dared not venture into the nursery on her way up. She could hear hushed voices, and the little clatter of tea-cups; but she feared lest the sight of her should raise a shout, and she passed into her room. In a minute more, a little footstep was heard entering, and Netta, with a woebegone face, stood at her side holding a cup of tea. "Mary sent you this, Nellie," she said, looking up shyly, and hardly expecting to be kissed. She was folded in her sister's arms; but she soon managed to say sedately, "Mary says she cannot leave baby, but you are on no account to go down till you have eaten this piece of bread and butter and had your tea." "Thank her, dear, very much. I will do as she advises."