anxiety for you; no words can
express my sorrow and my sympathy; but the doctor is quite hopeful,
Hester, and, please God, we shall soon have the little one as well as
ever."

"You are really sorry for me?" said Hester, raising her eyes to the
head-mistress' face.

"Of course, dear; need you ask?"

"Then you will have that wicked Annie Forest punished--well punished--well
punished."

"Sometimes, Hester," said Mrs. Willis, very gravely, "God takes the
punishment of our wrongdoings into His own hands. Annie came home with
me. Had you seen her face as we drove together you would not have asked
_me_ to punish her."

"Unjust, always unjust," muttered Hester, but in so low a voice that Mrs.
Willis did not hear the words. "Please may I go to little Nan?" she said.

"Certainly, Hester--some tea shall be sent up to you presently."

Miss Danesbury arranged to spend that night in Nan's room. A sofa bed was
brought in for her to lie on, for Mrs. Willis had yielded to Hester's
almost feverish entreaties that she might not be banished from her little
sister. Not a sound reached the room where Nan was lying--even the girls
took off their shoes as they passed the door--not a whisper came to
disturb the sick child. Little Nan slept most of the evening, only
sometimes opening her eyes and looking up drowsily when Miss Danesbury
changed the cold application to her head. At nine o'clock there came a
low tap at the room door. Hester went to open it; one of her
schoolfellows stood without.

"The prayer-gong is not to be sounded to-night. Will you come to the
chapel now? Mrs. Willis sent me to ask."

Hester shook her head.

"I cannot," she whispered; "tell her I cannot come."

"Oh, I am so sorry!" replied the girl; "is Nan very bad?"

"I don't know; I hope not. Good-night."

Hester closed the room door, took off her dress, and began very softly to
prepare to get into bed. She put on her dressing-gown, and knelt down as
usual to her private prayers. When she got on her knees, however, she
found it impossible to pray: her brain felt in a whirl, her feelings were
unprayer-like; and with the temporary relief of believing Nan in no
immediate danger came such a flood of hatred toward Annie as almost
frightened her. She tried to ask God to make Nan better--quite well; but
even this petition seemed to go no way--to reach no one--to fall flat on
the empty air. She rose from her knees, and got quietly into bed.

Nan lay in that half-d