ch for him; he is so tired and oppressed.'

'I am sure he must like your singing,' said Ethel.

'It is almost the only thing that answers,' said Averil, her eyes
wistfully turning to the sofa; 'he can't read, and doesn't like being
read to.'

'It is very difficult to manage a boy's recovery,' said Ethel. 'They
don't know how to be ill.'

'It is not that,' replied the sister, as if she fancied censure
implied, 'but his spirits. Every new room he goes into seems to beat
him down; and he lies and broods. If he could only talk!'

'I know that so well!' said Ethel. But to Averil the May troubles were
of old date, involved in the mists of childhood. And Ethel seeing that
her words were not taken as sympathy, continued, 'Do not the little
girls amuse him?'

'Oh no! they are too much for him; and I am obliged to keep them in the
nursery. Poor little things! I don't know what we should do if your
sister Mary were not so kind.'

'Mary is very glad,' began Ethel, confusedly. Then rushing into her
subject: 'Next week, I am to take Aubrey to the seaside; and we thought
if Leonard would join us, the change might be good for him.'

'Thank you,' Averil answered, playing with her heavy jet watch-guard.
'You are very good; but I am sure he could not move so soon.'

'Ave,' called Leonard at that moment; and Ethel, perceiving that she
likewise was to advance, came forth in time to hear, 'O, Ave! I am to
go to the sea next week, with Aubrey May and his sister. Won't it--'

Then becoming aware of the visitor, he stopped short, threw his feet
off the sofa, and stood up to receive her.

'I can't let you come if you do like that,' she said, shaking his long
thin hand; and he let himself down again, not, however, resuming his
recumbent posture, and giving a slight but effective frown to silence
his sister's entreaties that he would do so. He sat, leaning back as
though exceedingly feeble, scarcely speaking, but his eyes eloquent
with eagerness. And very fine eyes they were! Ethel remembered her
own weariness, some twelve or fourteen years back, of the raptures of
her baby-loving sisters about those eyes; and now in the absence of the
florid colouring of health, she was the more struck by the beauty of
the deep liquid brown, of the blue tinge of the white, and of the
lustrous light that resided in them, but far more by their power of
expression, sometimes so soft and melancholy, at other moments earnest,
pleading, and alm