And then it grew dark; the angel and the swallow both faded away and Winifred knew no more. CHAPTER IV. THE FIRST ATTEMPT. The next thing of which Winifred was conscious, was the bright sunlight streaming into the room, and her mother’s face bending anxiously over her. She woke up wide with a smile and a start. “Mamma! Is it late?” “No, dearest; but I have brought you some breakfast, before you get up. You may have to stay in bed a little while longer than usual to-day.” “Why, mamma?” “I am afraid you may have taken cold. Do you know where I found you last night, when I came up for a last peep? Curled up in the nursery window-seat, fast asleep.” Winifred began to smile. “Oh yes, I remember now; but I didn’t mean to go to sleep.” “Why did you go there at all, darling? You know you might have taken a bad cold, though you do not look any the worse.” “I did not think of that--it was careless,” said the child quickly. “I think I must have been rather silly, for I thought the swallows would go last night, though I know it is not time yet; and I wanted so much to see them fly away that I got up and sat by the nursery window to watch, and then I suppose I went to sleep.” “You certainly did that, Winnie, and slept so soundly that you never even woke when I carried you back to your little bed.” Winifred smiled, and looked up half-wistfully into her mother’s face. She was thinking of her dream; but she did not feel as though she could tell it to anybody yet, not until she had thought it all over in her own head first. “May I get up soon, mamma?” “Not for another hour or two, I think, darling. Then you shall do so, if you wish.” For a moment Winifred was disappointed. She wanted to go to the boys’ play-room and tidy their cupboard, and do all the little things for them which she had neglected so long. For one moment her face fell, and the little frown appeared; but then a sudden thought struck her and she smiled bravely. “Very well, mamma dear, I will do just as you like; only do you think I might sit up a little while, so that I can _do_ things?” “Yes, Winnie, I think that would not harm you. What makes my little girl so anxious to be busy this morning?” “Because I think I have been very idle for a long while--ever since I have been ill,” answered Winifred gravely. “Idle and selfish too. I want to be better now for two reasons, partly because I want to be good and do what God would like to see me do, and partly because I should not like people not to miss me, or to think I had been selfish, when I am gone.” “Gone!” echoed Mrs. Digby, with a little falter in her voice. Winnie coloured quickly. She had not meant to say so much. She thought she ought not to speak of the journey she was to take, until her mother told her of it. Perhaps she ought not to have heard that conversation--perhaps it was only a dream like the one she had just awoke from.