The long walk and sultry atmosphere had unwontedly flushed the girl's face, and the damp hair clung in glossy rings to her brow; but, as Miss Jane spoke, the blood ebbed from cheeks and lips, and sweeping back the dark tresses that seemed to oppress her, she asked, shiveringly,-- "Is Dr. Grey going back to sea?" "Oh no, child! An old friend is very ill, and telegraphed for him. Sit down, dear,--you look faint." "Thank you, I don't wish to sit down, and there is nothing the matter with me. When will he come home?" "I can not tell precisely, as his stay is contingent upon the condition of his friend." "Is it a man or woman whom he has gone to see?" The astonishment painted on Miss Jane's face would have been ludicrous to a careless observer, less interested than the orphan in her slow and deliberate reply. "A man, of course." "Did he tell you so?" "Certainly. He went to see Mr. Horace Manton, with whom he was associated while abroad. But suppose it had been some winsome, brown-eyed witch of a woman, instead of a dying man, what then?" "Then you would have lost your brother, and I my French pronouncing dictionary,--that is all. Did he leave any message about my grammar and exercises?" "No, dear; but he started so hurriedly--so unexpectedly--he had not time for such trifles. Where are you going?" "To put away my bonnet and bundle, and look after Stanley, who is romping with the kittens on the lawn." The old lady laid down her knitting, leaned her elbows on the arms of her rocking-chair, and, clasping her hands, bowed her chin upon them, while a half-stifled sigh escaped her.