of birds. It was half fledged and half starved, and he brought it
home, and gave it to his sister to nurse. "Sister Mabel," he said,
sadly, "this is the luck of Ravensfield: nurse it carefully, and
to-morrow I will buckle my sword to my belt and go to India. I do
believe this bird will live to see the old house rebuilt, and the glory
of our family restored."

So the young Lord Stephen went over the seas, and Miss Mabel nursed the
bird, and talked hopefully to it for fifteen years. But poor Lord
Stephen was killed in a great Indian battle, and soon after there came
to Miss Mabel a little lad who was Lord Stephen's only child. His father
had left him a little money, and his aunt Mabel took great pains with
him, and sent him to the best schools; and when he was twenty years old,
she buckled his sword on his belt, and kissing him tenderly, sent him
away also to India. "For, Stephen," she said, "you must win fame and
gold to buy back the house and lands of Ravensfield."

All these twenty years the Raven had been growing large and splendid,
and when the second Lord Stephen went away, he looked after him with a
queer sidewise glance that filled Miss Mabel's heart with fear. But he
was a bold, brave youth, and sent happy letters over the sea, and Miss
Mabel told the Raven all the news, and I have no doubt they comforted
each other very much. After nine years had passed, the Raven suddenly
grew silent, and then there came a sad, sad letter: the second Lord
Stephen had been killed fighting under his flag, and his sickly little
baby girl was sent home to his aunt in England.

Poor Miss Mabel was now sixty years old, and her heart and hopes were
quite crushed. She had little love left for the desolate child, and she
seemed to take a dislike to the poor Raven. At any rate, she never spoke
to it, and the bird became the companion of the little girl. They played
and ate and slept together, and when little Nannette went out to gather
primroses or berries, the Raven always walked solemnly beside her.

[Illustration: NANNETTE FEEDING THE RAVEN.]

One morning (the very morning when somebody drew this picture of them)
her aunt was cross--she had a heartache, and a toothache too, poor old
lady!--and Nannette took her porringer of bread and milk out of the
cottage, and she and the bird were enjoying it together, when some one
called out, "Nannette, I am going to shoot that ugly old bird!"

Then Nannette's little heart stood still in her