One morning the delicious feeling of returning consciousness revived me. Where was I? The room looked familiar, yet strange. Surely I had seen that silken coverlet before! The carved footboard of the bed on which I was lying was not new to my sight. My weak brain was busy with conjectures, when a woman approached, carrying a glass and spoon. It was Mary, the housekeeper of Bristed Hall. “Why, Mary, are you here?” I asked in surprise. “Yes, Miss, but you must not talk. Take these drops. I am heartily glad you are better, Miss.” A sense of rest and peace stole over me, followed by a few hours of natural sleep. On opening my eyes from this refreshing slumber, I found Mary still sitting near me. “Mary,” said I, “you must tell me where I am; everything here looks so natural, and yet as if I were in a dream.” “You are not dreaming, Miss. You are in your own chamber in Bristed Hall.” Bristed Hall! A warm gush of gratitude pervaded my being. So I was not friendless! I was cared for. “Where is Mr. Bristed?” I asked after a pause. “We have persuaded him to drive out, miss, as the doctor said you were out of danger. Anxiety for you and grief for Herbert’s death have quite taken his strength away.” “I must get up, Mary. You must help me to dress.” “Oh no, miss!” she replied; “you are not strong enough yet.” “I am quite strong. Besides, it will revive me; I am weary of the bed, and need a change.” She acquiesced in my wish, dressed me neatly, and smoothed my hair. “Now, take me down,” I requested. “I wish to surprise Mr. Bristed.” Of course she remonstrated, said I would bring on the fever again, and all that; but as I persisted in my determination, she led me down the stairs. The fresh air invigorated me; I felt every minute increased power. At my request, she took me to Mr. Bristed’s conservatory. The bright flowers, the singing birds in their ornamented cages, and the adjoining study with its well-filled shelves, all reminded me of the past. Tears came to my eyes as I recalled the bitter changes I had seen since leaving that sunny home! CHAPTER XXII. I had not been long in the conservatory when I heard the wheels of a carriage. Mr. Bristed had returned. He ascended the steps: I heard his voice in the hall. His first words were an inquiry after my welfare. He was told that I was better. Passing through his apartments, he entered the study. I could see him plainly from the windows of the conservatory. He looked, I thought, thin and sad; his hair had become sprinkled with gray since the time when I resided in his mansion. Turning to Mary, who was waiting there for me, he said: “I feel faint; bring me a cup of tea.” Mary left the room on her mission, and I stole from my hiding place. “Mr. Bristed,” whispered I, coming softly up behind his chair. He started. “Whose voice is that? Agnes, where are you?” “Here, sir,” I answered, as I touched him lightly. He turned toward me, his face flushed with pleasure, his eyes expectant.