pushing by Miss
Dinsmore, I went up the front stairs to Annie's little room.

There she lay,--her bright, golden hair on the pillow, her eyes
closed,--a pale, panting phantom of herself, apparently in a troubled
sleep,--her mother, the bustling, gaudily attired woman, as quiet as a
little child beside her. She turned her head when she heard me, changed
color, and the tears filled her eyes; but it was probably owing to the
self-control of this woman, whom I had so looked down upon, that I did
not snap the thread of Annie Bray's life that day. With her child on the
brink of a precipice, she would make no moan to startle her off. The
doctor said her sleep must be unbroken. He, too, sat there; and, obeying
Mrs. Bray's quiet motion, I seated myself behind the others. The hours
wore on; the October sun went down. None of us moved, but gazed in mute
apprehension at the figure of her who, it seemed, could awake only in
heaven. This earthly love, so strong, so fierce, in the effort to retain
her,--would it prevail? This was the question which chained us there;
and when, at eight o'clock, she awoke, I waited until the doctor
pronounced his favorable opinion, then, without Annie's having seen me,
stole out by the other door and away.

At Hillside, when I entered, pale with suppressed excitement, and told
where I had been, Mrs. Lang rose at once.

"I wondered why she missed her lessons, until her brother brought word
she was not well. I will send some flowers and white grapes to her at
once"; and she would have rung the bell, but Miss Darry prevented her.

"Dear Alice," she said, "white grapes are only water sweetened by a
little sunshine, and flowers she is too ill to enjoy. Let me make up a
basket. Come down with me, Sandy, to the pantry."

Mechanically I followed her down, watched her moving busily about, and
heard her talk, yet could not find a word to utter in reply.

"White grapes are excellent for people who sit down to a luxurious
dinner every day, but pale, feeble bodies like little Annie Bray's must
recuperate on richer fare,--a bottle of wine, some rich, juicy beef; and
the sight of this old working world from the window is worth all the
flowers in creation."

She filled her basket, called a servant, and sent him off. Still pale
and silent, I neither moved nor spoke.

"What is the matter with you, Sandy?" Miss Darry asked, a half-smothered
fear in her voice. "You are not strong enough for such excitement. Come