And while Mrs. Arnold, after arranging the pillows, and in a neat, quick-handed way, straightening and tidying everything on the table and around the bed, returned to her work, I watched her very attentively, and I am afraid very rudely, from the slight color that arose in her pale cheek as she caught my eye again and again fixed on her inquiringly. She was a middle-aged woman, about middle-size, with nothing peculiar in dress or manner, except a scrupulous precision and neatness. Her hair was very grey, but her face was a younger one than you would have expected to see, after looking at her slightly-stooping figure and white hair. Her skin was unwrinkled and clear, her eyes soft and brown, and the sweetest possible smile sometimes stirred her lips. But it died very quickly always, and never seemed to come voluntarily; only "when called for," and then to cheer or comfort some one else--never because of any happy emotion within, that found that expression for itself. She conveyed the idea of a woman who had been a very high-spirited and impetuous one, but who was now a very broken and sad one; a soul ----"By nature pitched too high, By sufferings plunged too low," but now past struggle and rebellion, subdued and desolated, waiting patiently for the end. This much I read, or thought I read, in her quiet face, as still leaning on my elbow, I watched her movements. I was irresistibly attracted to her, and essayed to continue our brief conversation, by saying: "Hasn't 'that Kitty,' as Mrs. Roberts calls her, been here since I have been sick?" "She has been here, and went away only half an hour ago, to get some of your things. I expect her back every minute." "I thought I'd seen her," I rejoined, meditatively. "And how about Mrs. Roberts, has she been here?" "She has; she was here all yesterday afternoon." I lay quite still for a little while, then said, rather abruptly: "I can't exactly make it out--where am I, and whose house is this?" Mrs. Arnold smiled kindly, and turning toward me, said: "You have been too sick to know much about anything; you are at the Parsonage, and this is Mr. Shenstone's house, and I am Mr. Shenstone's housekeeper. And now do not puzzle your head with any more thinking; ask me any questions you want to know, and then try to lie quiet." "I think I've been quiet long enough in all conscience!" I said, with energy. "I feel a great deal better, Mrs. Arnold." "I am very glad to hear it, Miss. Will you have something to eat?" "What can I have?" "Some very nice gruel, Miss, or some"----