Time passed on and Christmas came at last. By that time Hyacinth had grown accustomed to her new home. Dr. Chalmers had been to see her, and had professed himself delighted with the change in her appearance. She did not regain all of her lost happiness, but she did regain some of her lost health and strength. Though she had not a single hope left, and did not value her life, the color slowly returned to her face and the light to her eyes. The fresh sea-breeze, the regular daily exercise, the quiet life, all tended to her improvement. She did not seem the same girl when Christmas, with its snow and holly, came round. Hyacinth found wonderful comfort in the constant childish prattle and numerous questions of little Clara; the regular routine of studies took her thoughts in some measure from herself. She was obliged to rouse herself; she could not brood over her sorrows to the exclusion of everything else. She had thought her heart dead to all love, and yet at Hulme Abbey she had learned to love two things with a passion of affection--one was her little pupil; the other, the broad, open, restless sea. How long her present mode of life was to last she did not know--she had not asked herself; some day or other she supposed it would end, and then she must go somewhere else to work. But it was certain she would have to work on in quiet hiding till she died. It was not a very cheerful prospect, but she had learned to look at it with resignation and patience. "The end will come some day," she thought; "and perhaps in a better world I shall see Adrian again." Adrian--he was still her only thought. When she was sitting at times, by the sea-shore, with the child playing on the sands, she would utter his name aloud for the sake of hearing its music. "Adrian," she would say; and a light that was wonderful to see would come over the lovely face. "Adrian," the winds and waves would seem to re-echo; and she would bend forward, the better, as she thought, to hear the music of the name. "Mamma," said Veronica to Lady Dartelle one day, "I think you have done a very foolish thing." "What is that, my dear?" asked the lady, quite accustomed to her daughter's free criticism. "Why, to bring that girl here. Do you not see that she is growing exceedingly beautiful? You do not give her enough to do." "I quite agree with Veronica, mamma," put in Mildred; "you have let your usual judgment sleep." Lady Dartelle looked up in astonishment. "I assure you, my dears, that when I saw her first she did not look even moderately pretty." "She has very much altered then," said Veronica. "When she came in with Clara yesterday, I was quite astonished. I have never seen a color half so lovely on any face before."