And she passed into a sleep from which it would seem she could never waken. We sent Matthias back to tell mother, and say that we should both stay all night if necessary. This girl could not be more than twenty, we thought. Her fingers were small and tapering, and on her right hand she wore a ring set with several diamond stones. Her dress was of silk, and her shawl fine but thin. Her head covering had doubtless fallen off and then been carried by the wind, for we saw nothing of it. She was a beautiful picture as she lay there, for the blood had started and her cheeks were flushed with fever, her lips parted, showing a set of teeth, small, white and regular. Who could she be? Where did she come from? It was about an hour after she fell asleep that she stirred, wakened, and this time opened her eyes in which a conscious light was gathering. "Where am I? What is it?" Mrs. Goodwin stepped near her, Louis retreated from the room, and I kept my seat by the hearth. "Dead, dead, I was dying but I am not dead; do tell me," she said, putting both her hands out to Mrs. Goodwin. "You are sick, my child. We found you in the road and took you in. You had lost your way." "Oh! oh!" she murmured, "can I stay all night?" "Oh, yes, stay a week or two, and get rested!" "May I go to sleep again? Who knows me here?" and again she fell asleep. By this time Aunt Hildy appeared on the scene, and commanded me to go home and stay there. "'Tain't no place for you; I've brought my herbs to stay and doctor her. You go home and help your mother." I obeyed, of course, and when I left, kissed the white forehead of the poor girl, and sealed it with a tear that fell. She murmured: "Yes, all for love,--home, pictures, mother,--all left for love, and the baby's dead. I'm going there." I went out into the crisp air with Louis' arm for support, and a thousand strange thoughts whirling in my brain. "Great, indeed, must have been the sorrow which could have driven so tender a plant from home." "Yes," said Louis, "God pity the man whose ruthless hand has killed the blossoms of her loving heart. She looks like little mother, Emily." "So she does, Louis." And we talked earnestly, forgetting everything but this strange, sweet face. Supper was ready, and the rest were at the table. "What have you been up to?" said Ben, "you look like two tombstones." I related briefly the history, and concluded by saying: "She looks as frail as a flower." To which Mr. Benton added: "Doubtless her frailty, Miss Minot, is the cause of her present suffering." "Poor lamb," said Clara, "how thankful we should feel that Matthias found her." "Yes," said Louis, "and if he only could have thought to have carried her into Mr. Goodwin's, and then come over after us, she would not have so hard a struggle for life." "Do you think she can live?" said Mr. Benton.