That sudden waking bewildered Hilary; the vague, puzzled feeling which so often follows deep sleep, at an unusual time, or in an unaccustomed place, came over her, and for a minute she could remember nothing; not where she was, nor what had happened, nor why she found herself so strangely sleeping there. She pressed her hands over her eyes; the full tide of thought and memory came back, and she shrank from the pain she was about to give. But it must be done! yes, and done by her too, or the task would fall on her father, perhaps; and done at once, that the first wild agony of tears and grief might be stilled and composed in part before it came to add to that father’s pain and desolation. She drew the two rosy faces toward her, for Sybil was awake now, and pressing each in her arms, as they knelt or crouched upon the bed, she faltered out the words, through her tears, “Mamma has been ill in the night!” Gwyneth fixed her full dark eyes upon her sister’s face with a gaze which seemed to ask for more, for some explanation. Sybil gave a frightened start, and said, “Oh, Hilary, and how is she now?――has she been very ill?” “Very,” replied Hilary, forcing back her tears, and speaking gravely, calmly, but very sadly; “very ill indeed; but, Sybil, she is better now!” Gwyneth still stared at Hilary. “Then why were you crying?” was her question. “Let me go to her,” said Sybil, struggling to release herself from her sister’s clasp, which, however, now bound her the closer for her efforts to move. Sybil was quiet without a word, only glancing apprehensively at the face hanging over her, with brimming eyelids and quivering lips. Gwyneth exclaimed again impatiently, “Speak, Hilary, or let me go;――nay, I _will_ go to mamma.” “No, Gwyneth, you can not,” said the elder sister, laying her forehead down on her sister’s black curls. “Who says so?――did she? she never refuses to see us! how unkind you are, Hilary.” “A higher hand than mine, dear Gwyneth――be quiet; you can not see mamma now, because――” and such a deep, heartfelt sob stopped her words, that Sybil saw it all in one moment, and quietly turning from them both, laid her head among the pillows, and, except for a slight convulsive shiver now and then, was still and silent. “Why, why, where is mamma?” cried Gwyneth, fighting with the wild, incomprehensible terror which was overpowering her.