shook violently as they performed the trying offices. Tina, ever thoughtful of her mother, in spite of the torturing pain uttered not a single cry, and only now and then an irrepressible moan escaped her lips. The oil with which the burns were immediately bathed produced a soothing effect, and her mangled limbs were now covered with raw cotton, and tenderly bound up. She lay upon a small sofa, from which it was found impossible to remove her without danger. Dr. Welldon ordered her to remain undisturbed that night.

With what altered feelings Susan and Robin sat down to watch beside her! Their exulting pride had suddenly been changed almost to despair. Yet were their hearts full of thankfulness that the child's life had been spared. But the shock to her constitution must be so great, those burns were so terrible, might she not yet die? Neither dared ask that question, but it shone in the eyes of both when they looked into each other's faces for comfort.

After pity, curiosity, and interest, had all been satisfied, the green-room was gradually deserted, save by Susan and Robin. They sat together, hand clasped in hand, the whole of that long, fearful night, watching their child. An opiate had caused a halfsleep, but pain did not seem wholly lulled. She lay with her eyes partly open, for their shining blue glittered through the long lashes; her breath was labored, and now and then she flung her arms from side to side, and feebly groaned.

The kind physician returned soon after daylight, and ordered the little sufferer to be carried upon the sofa to her home. Mr. Gildersleaf and one

of the carpenters, who had remained in the theatre all night, would have borne her; but the poor hunchback insisted that he himself must aid. Tina was covered with shawls; - the father took the head of the couch, and the sympathizing "property-man the foot, and they set out. Susan walked by the side of her child. The carpenter followed, for he well knew that Robin's strength would give way. It was too early in the morning to meet any but a few stragglers, and these paused in surprise and pity, and some asked questions of the carpenter. One woman said to another, as they passed, "That's the poor little lamb who was nearly burned to death last night. She looks as white as if she were dying now."

What words for the mother's ears!

Robin heard them also; they curdled his blood, and took from his limbs their little remaining strength. "Set her down, Gildersleaf! I can't—I can't take another step!"

They set down the sofa. Tina was now quite conscious; the fresh morning air had revived her. She opened her eyes, and said, in a faint tone, “I am better, father; I'm so glad you're taking me home!"

The carpenter now occupied Robin's place, and Robin walked beside Susan, who sorely needed his support. As she clung to his arm, she whispered, "That woman said she was so white, that — that but she's always white, Robin, dear; you know she's so fair! She's not whiter than usual, is she?"

In a few moments they were at the door of their humble lodgings. The sofa was carried up that nar

row stair with some difficulty, and at last the prompter's family were once more in their own neat but poverty-betokening room. Tina uttered no groan as her father lifted her up and laid her tenderly on the bed, though every movement rendered her sufferings

more acute.

'Ah, my birdie! my birdie! this is a terrible blow to fall on you!" said the anguished parent.

Father," she whispered, "did you not tell me good comes out of every affliction which we bear patiently? I mean to be patient; 0, so patient, if you and mother will help me!"

"We will help you, my own birdie! We will all be patient, and the Lord will not take thee, our only treasure, away from us! No, he will not!"

"Not-not unless it be for your best good and for mine, father!" replied the child.

The poor prompter bowed his head. They were his own teachings, — could he rebel?

CHAPTER VI.

A Mother's Vigils. Mr. Higgins' Rule concerning Invalids. Sympathy of the Charitable. Visit of the Sunday-school Teacher. — The Mother's Pang of Jealousy. — Reticence. Convalescence. Susan's Return to the Theatre. · First Glance at the Place of Peril. Tina at Kew Gardens. - The Child's First Recognition of Nature. A Relapse. The Hunchback's Fears for his Wife. Two Minds in One.

The Seasons of Love.

WHEN Dr. Welldon visited Robin Truehart's humble lodgings that day, he found Tina in a heavy sleep; but her sharp, quick breathing, the crimson spot on either cheek, betokened the presence of high fever. The doctor's whispered inquiries and his light touch upon her throbbing pulse aroused her. She opened wide her large eyes, now shining with unusual lustre, but they looked vacantly around. Her mother bent tenderly over her, but no answer came to her anxious questions. Then suddenly the child raised herself on her pillows, and broke out in song. The liquid notes rang through the chamber, as she warbled,

"Where the bee sucks there suck I;

In a cowslip's bell I lie ! "

Susan no longer wept or trembled. Her bending, reed-like nature rose up strong and firm under the heavy pressure of this trial. Her tears were petrified

by the greatness of her affliction. With an unfaltering step she followed the physician from the chamber.

Doctor, will she live? will my child live? was all she said, and the words were uttered in a calm tone.

"I trust so," was his evasive answer. The mother's fear-quickened perception construed the reply aright.

At that moment the child's voice again struck on her ear,

"Under the blossom that hangs on the bough,

That hangs on the bough, that hangs on the bough!

,,

sang Tina. The day before Susan would have thought it impossible that she could shudder at the sound of that delicious melody. She returned to the bed-side of the child, who now sank back oppressed with sleep, now started up, murmuring snatches of Ariel's song

"Ding, dong, dell! - ding, dong, dell!”

She repeated that burden, the knell sang by the sea-nymphs, over and over, until Susan at last felt as though the whole universe were filled with that one haunting sound, that melodious knell. She heard it when the child's lips were mute; night and day it echoed in her ears, and drowned all other tones.

The accident occurred on Monday, and through that long week Robin had to fulfil his duties at the theatre as usual. Susan kept her sleepless vigils