Nellie's head was buried closer into her pillow. "He was so kind and gentle," she thought; "he seemed to understand what I feel, and to sympathize so much. It did me good, I suppose." Then she began to review all the day, and her father's words came back to her— "Now I have only you." "Only me," said Nellie to herself; "and I must be all he wants, and stay with him always, and be his comfort. Dear, dear papa." Long, long hours passed by before she slept. The streets got quieter and quieter; only an occasional carriage or cab broke the stillness, till the sound of the wheels died away in the distance, and all was again silent. Through her open window, she could hear Big Ben send forth its thrilling sound as the hours went by, and when each one struck, it came almost as a knell to her. "I have left the best of life behind," she thought sadly; and then once more she looked forward, not into the little life which was close to her, but beyond that, above the mists of the valley at her feet, up to the everlasting hills. "In Thy presence is fulness of joy: at Thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore." [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XVIII. "THAT WHICH WAS LOST." ADA gradually recovered; but still seemed not to wish to get up. Christina remained with them during this time, and they hardly knew how much her presence lightened the gloom of their fresh sorrow. She took the little girls, Nellie, and often Arthur, for a daily walk, and sometimes would persuade them into a short omnibus ride, and a walk in the park with her. Though they felt as if they could not bear to go, they yet came back refreshed and strengthened; and Christina was well repaid for her trouble, if trouble it could be called, when she saw the little girls looking happy, and Nellie's pale face relapse into a smile. One day she told them she was going to make a call, and asked them if they would wait for her an hour; and if she did not come back to them in that time, would they return home. "It is some one I do not know, Nellie; but when I come back, I will tell you about it; not just now. It is to the mother of that little boy I have, little Charlie Wood." "Are you going to see her?" asked Arthur. "Yes; I cannot bear not to try." So, when they arrived at Hyde Park, Christina left them to enjoy themselves while she went to pay her visit in one of the streets near. At the end of nearly an hour she came towards them, and asking Arthur to call a cab, she put them in it, promising to be home about six o'clock. She returned at the appointed time, very tired; but after tea as they all sat together, Dr. Arundel having gone to his study, Christina said she would begin her story. "I rang at the bell," she said, "and was asked up by an untidy servant to a shabby drawing room. I should however say that I knew she was in town on business, from her husband, who writes to me occasionally.