he straw, and
lovingly and gently they tried to restore her, and call her back to
consciousness. But for a long time their efforts were of no avail.

She lay there a picture of perfect loveliness, as beautiful as a
dream--like some child-angel. Her hair, frosted with snow dust,
clustered in golden curls over her fair white brow; her little hands
were folded meekly over her breast; her sweet lips were parted, and
disclosed the pearly teeth; the gentle eyes no longer looked forth
with their piteous expression of mute appeal; and her hearing was deaf
to the words of love and pity that were lavished upon her.

CHAPTER III.

THE CHILD-ANGEL AND HER WOES.

Mrs. Willoughby was in her room at the hotel in Milan, when the door
opened, and Minnie came in. She looked around the room, drew a long
breath, then locked the door, and flinging herself upon a sofa, she
reclined there in silence for some time, looking hard at the ceiling.
Mrs. Willoughby looked a little surprised at first; but after waiting
a few moments for Minnie to say something, resumed her reading, which
had been interrupted.

"Kitty," said Minnie at last.

"What?" said her sister, looking up.

"I think you're horrid."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Why, because when you see and know that I'm dying to speak to you,
you go on reading that wretched book."

"Why, Minnie darling," said Mrs. Willoughby, "how in the world was I
to know that you wanted to speak to me?"

"You _might_ have known," said Minnie, with a pout--"you saw me look
all round, and lock the door; and you saw how worried I looked, and I
think it a shame, and I've a great mind not to tell you any thing
about it."

"About it--what _it_?" and Mrs. Willoughby put down her book, and
regarded her sister with some curiosity.

"I've a great mind not to tell you, but I can't help it. Besides, I'm
dying to ask your advice. I don't know what to do; and I wish I was
dead--there!"

"My poor Minnie! what _is_ the matter? You're _so_ incoherent."

"Well, Kitty, it's all my accident."

"Your accident!"

"Yes; on the Alps, you know."

"What! You haven't received any serious injury, have you?" asked Mrs.
Willoughby, with some alarm.

"Oh! I don't mean that, but I'll tell you what I mean;" and here
Minnie got up from her reclining position, and allowed her little feet
to touch the carpet, while she fastened her great, fond, pleading,
piteous eyes upon her sister.

"It's the Count, you kno