Arthur only broke down once, and that was when he had first gone in to see his mother's face. After that he was silent and thoughtful, and only desirous of helping Nellie. How sad were the details of the mourning and the funeral preparations. Nellie was thankful that Ada was out of it all. She continued very unwell, and would accept no one to wait on her but Christina, who went in and out with the greatest kindness and consideration. One morning after she had put Ada comfortable, and made all neat, she stood by the bedside looking earnestly at her. "What is it?" asked Ada, thinking she wished to say something. "Ada, dear, I do not like to keep you in ignorance; but would you not like to see your dear mamma before—" Ada started, and sat up in bed, raising her heavy eyes in surprise. "There is no hurry, dear," answered Christina tenderly; "but I knew what I should have liked." "Yes, yes; I have been so ill. I forgot she could not be here always." Christina gave her her clothes, and Ada dressed, trembling in every limb. "Can you, dear?" asked Christina, with tears in her eyes. "Oh, yes, please. I shall come back to bed after." "Shall I come with you, or wait here?" "If you would help me to the door? Oh, I'm so giddy." Christina put her strong arm round her, and they went slowly downstairs. When they came to the room, Ada kissed her, and, steadying herself with a strong effort, entered and shut the door. Long Christina waited, but not a sound came from within. At last with beating heart she ventured to go in. In the centre of the room was all that remained of the one they so loved, and on the floor by it lay Ada, in a death-like swoon. Christina was glad to hear Dr. Arundel's step behind her, and together they lifted the poor child back to her bed, where she lay again hour after hour, till grief should have time to spend its bitter force. On the morning after the funeral, Dr. Arundel told them it would be wise to take up their usual avocations. "Let us remember your dear mother always, and speak of her to each other whenever we like; but we will also do as she would wish, and that will be to remember we have One higher than even her to please; that we must go about our Father's business." He kissed them all gravely and lovingly, and then, taking Nellie's hand, led her into his study. "My dear child," he said, "you must thank all in the house for their consideration and love to me this week; I cannot. And to you, my dear, I must now look to be my housekeeper, and comfort, and friend. You have always been so, my child, next to dear mamma; and now I have only you." He was too overcome to say more; and perhaps that day in which they turned over a new leaf was the most hopelessly sad one they had passed. In the evening, just as Nellie was coming down from their mamma's duty of saying the little ones' prayers, she heard some one being shown into the drawing room.