And had she forgotten her child in her new-found happiness? the child who was now searching so eagerly, lovingly for her? No, no, the tender mother-love could not be so easily quenched! No doubt unavailing efforts had been made to recover her lost treasure; and though other little ones had perhaps come to share that love, the first-born held her own place in the mother’s heart. “Oh, when shall I find her? how can I endure this waiting, waiting in suspense? ’Tis the hardest thing in life to bear!” she exclaimed half aloud, forgetting that she was not alone; letting her work fall in her lap while she clasped her hands together over her beating heart and drew a long, sighing breath. “What--what is it?” cried Madame Le Conte, starting from her sleep and rubbing her eyes. “Has anything happened?” “No, nothing. How thoughtless I have been to disturb your slumbers!” Ethel said, rising, bending over her, and gently stroking her hair. “Oh,” sighed the Madame, “it is no matter! my dreams were not pleasant: I am not sorry to have been roused from them. But what is it that you find so hard to bear?” “This suspense--this doubt whether my mother still lives; whether I shall ever find her.” “We will! we must!” cried the Madame with energy, starting up in her chair as she spoke. “They say money can do everything, and I will pour it out like water!” “And I,” said Ethel low and tremulously, “will pray, _pray_ that, if the will of God be so, we may be speedily brought together; and prayer moves the Arm that moves the universe.” “And we will share the waiting and suspense together; it will be easier than for either alone. But if you have found it hard to endure for one year, what do you suppose the ten that I have waited and watched have been to me?” Many, many times in the next two years, while looking, longing, hoping even against hope for the finding of her mother and the coming of Espy, Ethel’s heart repeated that cry, “Oh, this weary, weary waiting, this torturing suspense! it is hard, hard to bear!” Two years, and no word of or from either. Two years of freedom from poverty with all its attendant ills. Two years of abounding wealth. But poverty is not the greatest of evils, nor do riches always bring happiness. Ethel’s life during this time had had other trials besides the absence of those loved ones, and the uncertainty in regard to their well-being and their return to her. Her days, and often her nights also, were spent in attendance upon her aunt, whose ailments seemed to increase, and who grew more and more querulous, unreasonable, and exacting. Ethel bore it all very patiently, seldom appearing other than cheerful and content in her aunt’s presence, though sometimes giving way to sadness and letting fall a few tears in the privacy of her own apartments.