mother,
assisting her to dress. But the effort to sit up seemed too much for
Mrs Elder.

"It's no use trying, Lilias, my dear," she said, at last, laying her
aching head back on the pillow again. "I'm either too ill or too weary
to rise. Thank God, it is the day of rest. I shall be better
to-morrow."

But this was not to be. Through all that long day she lay, tossing in
restless wakefulness or moaning in feverish slumber. Mrs Blair, too,
worn out by her long journey and her sleepless night, seemed unable to
make the slightest exertion. Lilias went from one to the other,
ministering to their wants; and her loving voice and gentle touch
brought comfort to their hearts, though she could not soothe their
bodily pain.

"You are a kind little nurse, Lilias," said her aunt, detaining the hand
that had been laid lovingly on her. "I am sure you have the will to
help us, if you only had the power."

"Oh, I wish I could do something for you, aunt! I am afraid you are
very weary. Maybe if I were to read a little to you, the time wouldn't
seem so long," And she laid her hand on her own little Bible as she
spoke.

"Yes, love, read: I shall be very glad to listen."

So she read, in her clear, childish voice, psalm after psalm, till her
aunt could not but wonder at the skill with which she seemed to choose
those most suitable to their circumstances. By-and-by, after a little
pause, she said:

"Some way, I like the Psalms, aunt. Do you not like them? They seem to
say what we want to say so much better than we can ourselves."

"Yes, my child; that is true. And so you like the Psalms best, do you?"
said her aunt.

"Not _best_,--at least, not always;--only when I am weary or sad. There
are some chapters in the New Testament that I like best of all. This is
Archie's chapter." And she turned to the fifteenth of Luke. "Archie
thinks it is grand, this about the joy among the angels in heaven; and
this, too, about the Father's love;" and she read, "`But when the father
saw him, he had compassion upon him, and ran, and fell on his neck, and
kissed him.'"

"Archie never tires of that," she said, smiling at her brother, who had
been sitting with his eyes fixed upon her, listening as she read. "And
this is the one I like best, about Mary, and Martha, and Lazarus." And
she read the eleventh chapter of John, but paused before she got to the
end.

"I never like to read the rest, about their taking counsel to slay H