“Dear friend,” said the young girl, pushing back the hair from his burning forehead, “look at me. Do you not see that I am safe?” Mr. Carlisle turned towards her, and, in sudden revulsion of feeling, burst into a wild laugh. “I knew,” he said, “that, if they would only come and help me, I should succeed. But it was very heavy; it has made me very tired.” “Yes, you have had hard work, and it was very kind in you to undertake it for me. But now you must rest. It would make me very unhappy if I thought that my safety had caused any injury to you.” And while she was talking, Assunta had motioned to Giovanni to bring the soothing medicine the doctor had left, and she succeeded in administering it to her patient, almost without his knowledge, so engrossed was he in his present vagary. “But there was a cross?” he asked. “Yes,” she answered, in a meaning tone, “a very heavy one; but it did not crush me.” “Who lifted it?” he asked eagerly. “A powerful hand raised its weight from my shoulders, and I have the promise of His help always, if I should ever be in trouble again, and only will cry to Him.” “Well, whoever he is,” said Mr. Carlisle, “he did not hurry much when I called—and now I am so tired. And Clara said there was no cross; that I was mistaken. I am _never_ mistaken,” he answered, in something of his old, proud voice. “She ought to know that.” Assunta did not answer, but she sat patiently soothing her guardian into quiet at least, if not sleep. Once he looked at her, and said, “My precious child is safe;” but, as she smiled, he laughed aloud, and then shut his eyes again. An hour she remained beside the bed, and then she crept softly from the room, to take what little breakfast she could find an appetite for, and to assist Mrs. Grey in preparing for her drive. With such constant demands upon her sympathy and strength, it is not strange that Assunta’s courage sometimes failed. But, when the physician assured her that her guardian’s life was, humanly speaking, in her hands, she determined that no thought or care for herself should interfere with the performance of her duty. Mrs. Grey’s drive having proved an excellent tonic, she was tempted to repeat it often—always with a protest and with some misgivings of conscience, which were, however, set aside without difficulty.