“Oh! don’t be talking of that; thanks be to God there was nothing in it! I see you well now. Long life to you! Sure you must have been tired to death last night, for this morning early you lay so _quite_, sleeping like an angel; and I could see a great likeness in _yees_ to what you were when you were a child in my arms.” “But sit down, sit down, my good Ellinor,” said I, “and let us talk a little of your own affairs.” “And are not these my own affairs?” said she, rather angrily. “Certainly; but I mean, that you must tell me how you are going on in the world, and what I can do to make you comfortable and happy.” “There’s one thing would make me happy,” said she. “Name it,” said I. “To be let light your fire myself every morning, and open your shutters, dear.” I could not help smiling at the simplicity of the request. I was going to press her to ask something of more consequence, but she heard a servant coming along the gallery, and, starting from her chair, she ran and threw herself upon her knees before the fire, blowing it with her mouth with great vehemence. The servant came to let me know that Mr. M’Leod, my agent, was waiting for me in the breakfast-room. “And will I be let light your fire then every morning?” said Ellinor eagerly, turning as she knelt. “And welcome,” said I. “Then you won’t forget to speak about it for me,” said she, “else may be I won’t be let up by them English. God bless you, and don’t forget to speak for me.” “I will remember to speak about it,” said I; but I went down stairs and forgot it.