"She says dear mamma does not know you are come, so there is no hurry; and you will feel all the better for it." Netta withdrew, having discharged her message, and Nellie swallowed her tea mechanically, hardly knowing what she was doing. Then glancing in the glass, more by habit than because she thought of it, to see that she was neat, she was startled to find herself ghastly pale. "What shall I do?" she mentally ejaculated. "I shall frighten them all." She knelt down by her bed for an instant. She knew not what to say, and no words would form themselves in her mind beyond a cry of, "Help me, oh, help me!" Then she rose, and slowly went down to her mamma's room. How still the house was inside, and what a roar the passing cabs and vehicles made! Nellie stood outside on the mat till the wild beating of her heart should cease. She could not pray, but her thoughts went towards God nevertheless—her only Refuge. At last she opened the door softly and entered. The room was shaded from the glare of the June sunshine, and seemed quiet and peaceful. The first thing she saw was Ada, sitting in the window working, and then her glance took in the rest of the room; her mamma lying in a wrapper on the sofa, and her father seated by her, with her hand in his. Mrs. Arundel's eyes turned directly towards Nellie as she entered, and she held out her hand, saying very faintly, "I am glad you are come, darling." She kissed the ashy pale cheek, and then bent to greet her father, who rose and gave her his seat, himself leaving the room. Mrs. Arundel did not speak for some time, and Nellie sat silently by her. All this was very hard for her to understand; it had never been explained, and she could only wonder at it all in a sort of terrible dream. Presently Ada got up, and taking a cup from a small night-lamp, she fed their mamma with two or three spoonfuls of some nourishing broth. Mrs. Arundel after this seemed to rouse herself a little, and said to Nellie: "We did not expect this, dear, so soon; but God knows best, Nellie." Nellie pressed her hand, but could not trust herself to speak. "I am glad you are come, dear. I trust them all to you. You will do your best for them, Nellie?" "Indeed I will, dear mamma, if—" "Yes, dear, I understand; if I am taken away. We will try to talk of it calmly. Papa says there is just a possibility, but only a little, of my recovery, and I should feel happier to say what I wish now." She spoke very low, but quite clearly and collectedly: "The pain has been dreadful, Nellie; but it is better now; and while dear papa is away, I will tell you what I want." Ada had turned her back and dropped her work in her lap, and now sat with her arms resting on the table and her face looking out into the square, of which, however, she saw nothing.