"You would not like to add to the cares I already find so heavy, by not behaving nicely to me, would you?" Nellie asked. The cook twisted her apron, and then suddenly burst into tears. "It ain't a bit the same, now she's gone!" she exclaimed. "Do you not think we must feel that, cook?" asked Nellie, with filling eyes. "Do you think I like being mistress?" Cook was silent, wiping away her tears and thinking. "I suppose not, miss," she answered at last. "Then help me," said Nellie, turning away, "for it is sad work." "I will, miss," cook answered with a sob; "I never thought." It was now drawing on towards Christmas. Wilmot Elliot, after the disappointment of his plans, altered his mind. A softer, humbler feeling came over him with regard to Nellie, and in the visits which he now made from time to time, he tried to show her that he was sorry for his hastiness. He could not decide to his satisfaction whether Nellie had understood his manner before, or understood the alteration in it now. She seemed always the same when he came; appeared to have no more to do with him than the rest had, and was just the quiet elder sister, playing the hostess with a calmness which hardly befitted her years. What had altered her from the somewhat shy and blushing girl he had met at Shellford? He tried in vain to answer this question. One possibility presented itself, but this he would not entertain as the solution for a moment. He noticed that she quietly avoided any special conversation with himself, and held herself aloof. As however he had made up his mind that she was not to be won by impetuosity, he took this calmly, hoping that in time she would understand his love. One day, very near to Christmas, being called by business near Covent Garden, he strolled in among the flowers, thinking of Nellie, and wondering if she would accept some. He determined to try, and buying a lovely bunch of violets, hastened towards her home. It was about twelve o'clock, and Simmons was busy upstairs. The cook opened the door to him, and without any preparation asked him into the dining-room, merely saying, "I believe they are in here, sir." [Illustration: Nellie started up from the sofa where she had been sitting.] He entered, and Nellie started up from the sofa where she had been sitting, while a letter dropped on to the floor from her lap, and he found that she had been weeping violently. He stood as dismayed as she was, and then all at once he felt a feeling of deepest tenderness come over him. "Miss Nellie," he said, taking her hand, and leading her back to the sofa, "I want to comfort you, but I don't know how. What is the matter? Can you bear to tell me?" Nellie struggled with her tears, and drew away her hand, which he still held. "Don't take it away," he pleaded; "I want always to be able to comfort you. Oh, Nellie! What is it?"