I scarcely know now what I answered, but I daresay it was little to the point. During the next few minutes I was very uncomfortable, for she tried to thank me for saving her life. As soon as I could I led her to talk of other matters, chiefly because I knew not what to say or how to act. By and by she spoke of her father's death, and what she felt when she was informed she must leave her home and come to Trewinion Manor. She told me, also, of her desire to come by boat, and how Mr. Inch, an old trusted servant, had arranged to get a crew together, and how they had sailed along in sight of the giant cliffs. She had a sweet, childish voice, and talked in a way that was quite fascinating. By and by, as she told how the storm came on suddenly, of the dread feelings she had as she saw the waves rise higher and higher, and how she lost hope when the little vessel with an awful crash was swept upon the great rock, I could fancy myself again out on the angry sea. In a little while my father left us, and then I wished I were again back in my room, for I knew not how to talk. She, too, seemed ill at ease. "I'm sorry you and your brother are not better friends," she said, after we had been silent a few seconds. I was surprised at this, and wondered who could have have been talking to her. "Have you seen Wilfred?" I asked. "Oh, yes, I have seen him twice. He came yesterday, and again to-day. Your mother was here, too." "I am glad they have been to see you," I replied, "but I did not know that Wilfred and I were not friendly." She looked at me, I thought, suspiciously, as though she doubted my words, but did not speak. Had my mother and Wilfred, I wondered, been saying evil things about me. I hoped not, and yet it might be. Certainly, their conduct towards me had been strange. I would not talk of this, however, and so asked her if she liked my sisters. "Very much," she replied. "They have been with me every day; and the first two days when I was ill they were with me nearly all the time. I think, I see them coming now." As she spoke Katherine and Elizabeth entered the room. They were bright, buxom maidens, well-grown and healthy. The latter, though two years younger was quite as well grown as the stranger who had come to live amongst us. Yet there was a difference. Ruth Morton possessed a dignity and a grace which were foreign to both my sisters. Children they all were, pretty they all were, yet the beauty of Ruth Morton was of a different nature. She had been cast in another mould, and thus presented a contrast to my sisters. I was a great favourite both with Katherine and Elizabeth; but I did not stay with them. Stiff and weak as I was I found my way back to my room, where, throwing myself on the bed, I tried to rest.