"But she didn't die, I know she didn't!" cried Undine, sitting up, despite all Mrs. Graham's efforts to keep her quiet. "I knew it when I read the letter. For one minute I remembered something horrible. I don't remember it any more now, but I was so frightened, and--oh, Mrs. Graham, I was so terribly frightened!" And the poor child burst into a fit of wild, hysterical sobbing, and clung passionately to her kind friend's neck. * * * * * Miss Jessie pushed her wheeled-chair out onto the porch, and strained her eyes in the gathering dusk, in the vain hope of seeing some approaching figure. Fortunately the January evening was warm, but even if it had been cold she would scarcely have been aware of the fact. She was very anxious, and this long suspense of waiting was hard to bear. It was more than two hours since Undine had regained consciousness, and in all that time the girl had scarcely uttered an intelligible word. She had passed from one hysterical fit into another, and Mrs. Graham and Juanita were at their wits' end. For almost the first time in twelve years Miss Jessie realized the awful loneliness of their lives. "Donald must surely be back soon," she told herself, trying to be patient, "and Jim will be here with the mail before long. Oh, that poor child--what can it all mean?" There was a slight sound behind her, and Mrs. Graham, too, stepped out on the porch. She was looking pale and distressed. "How is she now?" Miss Jessie whispered, anxiously. "I think she has fallen into a doze; she must be quite exhausted, poor child. She has had a terrible shock of some kind." "Do you think it can have been caused by anything in Marjorie's letter? She must have been reading it when she fainted." "I don't know what to think," said Mrs. Graham, clasping her hands nervously. "She spoke of that Randolph girl--the little girl who was killed in the earthquake, you know. Oh, Jessie, you don't suppose--" Mrs. Graham did not finish her sentence, but the two women looked at each other in the dusk, and both their faces were pale and startled. "I must go back," said Mrs. Graham in a hurried whisper; "I dare not leave her long. When she wakes she may remember; I think her memory is coming back. I am afraid you will take cold out here." "I am not cold, but I will come in soon. I am waiting for Donald and Jim. I must warn them not to speak loud; it might startle her again." Mrs. Graham made no further objection, but went back into the house and Miss Jessie folded her hands and waited. Five, ten minutes passed, and then came the sound of distant hoofs. With a sigh of intense relief, Miss Jessie sent the wheeled-chair gliding smoothly off the porch, and across the lawn. The hoof-beats drew nearer, and now she heard voices. Was it her brother or Jim, and who were the others, for she distinctly heard more than one voice?