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that Walworth had been absent from the city for a fortnight on business connected with the university. I answered his note and despatched it to him by Lolotte, for he waited below, and on her return she informed me that the bouquet of rare and delicate hothouse flowers, placed every morning for a week past on Mildred's table, had been brought by Mr. Poinsett himself, whom she described as anxious and distressed beyond measure by the tidings of Mildred's illness.

When Mildred was able to be carried from her room to the carriage, she was taken out, on pleasant days, for a slow drive; and as soon as she was pronounced able to endure the fatigue, she was removed to the farm to be under Mrs. Grey's care, until her convalescence should be complete. Here Walworth visited her, and they either walked or rode together in fine weather until her health was restored. By his contrivance a sort of litter was made, in which, with the help of Philip Arran and Donald Ray, she could be carried about the lanes and wood-paths in the vicinity, and more than once Colonel Aicheson was

one of the bearers of the beloved and beautiful invalid. "Let me be a brother," he pleaded, "if I may be no more." And a brother he was.

It was nearly a week after Mildred's departure before I was able to drive out to see her, for Lillian was ill with a slight cold and fever, and fretted so continually during my absence that I was obliged to remain her constant attendant. When I reached Mrs. Grey's, I found Philip engaged with his protectress in making out a list of scholars for a school, which Mr. Irving had informed her was much needed in the village, and which she had undertaken to establish (with her father's consent), contributing one-half the means for its support, since the poverty of most of the people in the vicinity prevented their paying even a moderate salary to a teacher.

I shook my head as I looked at Mildred's thin face and flushed cheek.

"Nurse Matty," I said, "do you allow this?" "Ah, no indeed, Miss Bessie!" she replied, "I have just been expostulating vainly enough," and she looked distressed and anxious.

Mildred flung her arms round Mrs. Grey's neck.

"Take away paper and pencil, Philip," she said, "and then Bessie shall go over to Mr. Irving's with us, and learn all about the school's beginning from him."

Mildred did not return to the city again. As she grew strong and well, the school (which flourished under her auspices) engaged much of her time; for although she had been fortunate in obtaining a competent teacher, she found that the school-children did better when encouraged by her presence and occasional instruction. She had found employment once more, and was happier for it.

TARLIGHT and tears! In the quiet

old garden, the last evening of their

life at school, Ellice Manvers stood with Kate, and talked of the future. Its promises were fair to them; Hope's pictures looked bright; and yet they wept, as youth will weep over its first partings. Tears do not come so readily after a time, though they may perchance be needed more. Their grief was sin

gratitude on Ellice's, had drawn them together, and the bond thus formed was not lightly to be broken. They dwelt once more on their plans for the coming time, although they had been for months familiar to them, and renewed assurances of undying friendship. They were to be constant correspondents, and when summer came, Kate was to spend the vacation with Ellice, who was to live with a maternal relative whose residence in Carysford Place was near that of Mr. Forrester. With entwining arms about each other, they stood there in that old garden, chill though the air was (for it was February), until I called to Kate from the piazza, where I waited for her. Their parting was affectionate and tender enough for lovers. School-girls part often thus; but years will come and go, other friends will drop away from each, and they will be unforgetting, unestranged still.

Kate was summoned away by one of the teachers before she could join me, and Ellice

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