“As you please, ma’am,” said the old woman, looking with little favor at the new-comer, for the good soul was jealous of any interference between herself and the child she had tended for years. “I won’t disturb her, but you shall take Miss Devon in and tell Helen mamma sends her love, and hopes she will make an effort for all our sakes.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Go, my dear, and do your best.” With these words Mrs. Carrol hastily left the room, and Christie followed Nurse. A quick glance showed her that she was in the daintily furnished boudoir of a rich man’s daughter, but before she could take a second look her eyes were arrested by the occupant of this pretty place, and she forgot all else. On a low luxurious couch lay a girl, so beautiful and pale and still, that for an instant Christie thought her dead or sleeping. She was neither, for at the sound of a voice the great eyes opened wide, darkening and dilating with a strange expression as they fell on the unfamiliar face. “Nurse, who is that? I told you I would see no one. I’m too ill to be so worried,” she said, in an imperious tone. [Illustration: HELEN CARROL] “Yes, dear, I know, but your mamma wished you to make an effort. Miss Devon is to sit with you and try to cheer you up a bit,” said the old woman in a dissatisfied tone, that contrasted strangely with the tender way in which she stroked the beautiful disordered hair that hung about the girl’s shoulders. Helen knit her brows and looked most ungracious, but evidently tried to be civil, for with a courteous wave of her hand toward an easy chair in the sunny window she said, quietly: “Please sit down, Miss Devon, and excuse me for a little while. I’ve had a bad night, and am too tired to talk just yet. There are books of all sorts, or the conservatory if you like it better.” “Thank you. I’ll read quietly till you want me. Then I shall be very glad to do any thing I can for you.” With that Christie retired to the big chair, and fell to reading the first book she took up, a good deal embarrassed by her reception, and very curious to know what would come next. The old woman went away after folding the down coverlet carefully over her darling’s feet, and Helen seemed to go to sleep. For a time the room was very still; the fire burned softly on the marble hearth, the sun shone warmly on velvet carpet and rich hangings, the delicate breath of flowers blew in through the half-open door that led to a gay little conservatory, and nothing but the roll of a distant carriage broke the silence now and then. Christie’s eyes soon wandered from her book to the lovely face and motionless figure on the couch. Just opposite, in a recess, hung the portrait of a young and handsome man, and below it stood a vase of flowers, a graceful Roman lamp, and several little relics, as if it were the shrine where some dead love was mourned and worshipped still.