her, so just give her a kiss, and go quietly
away."

Tears of disappointment rushed to Rhoda's eyes, and as she stooped to
give that farewell kiss the salt drops fell upon Evie's cheeks, and
roused her momentarily from her lethargy.

"Poor Rhoda!" she sighed softly. "Poor little Rhoda!" then her eyes
closed, and Nurse took hold of the girl's arm and led her resolutely
away.

"You look as if you were going to faint yourself, and I can't have two
of you on my hands," she said as soon as the corridor was reached, and
the door closed behind them. "You'll just come back to your own room,
my dear, and lie down on the bed."

"Nurse--tell me! you have been with her the whole time, and know how she
feels. Will she ever forgive me? I never, never thought it would be so
bad as this. She would not speak to me, would not look at me even."

"She wasn't thinking of you at all, my dear, she was thinking of her
knee. That is all she can find time to think of just now. The doctors
kept it from her as long as they could, but she questioned them, and
would not be put off, so they had to tell her the truth. She knows she
will be lame, and it has pretty well broken her heart. It's the bread
out of her mouth, poor lamb, and she knows it. It will be many a long
day before she is herself again."

And this was the end of Rhoda's first meeting with Laura Everett after
her accident!

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

MRS. CHESTER'S PLAN.

It was many days before Rhoda saw Miss Everett again, but, if she was
not admitted to the sick room, her mother was a frequent and welcome
visitor, and took entire charge of the invalid while the nurse fulfilled
her ordinary duties. There was little actual nursing to be done, but
the doctors were anxious to prevent solitary repinings, and to do what
was possible to raise the spirits of their patient. Evie's own mother
had come down for a few days to satisfy herself concerning her
daughter's condition, but had been obliged to hurry back to the
Vicarage, where the invalid sister was growing worse rather than better,
so that her presence could badly be spared. She was a worn, faded
edition of Evie, and looked so typical of what the girl herself might
now become that Rhoda could not bear to look at her. The two mothers,
however, became great friends, for they met with a remembrance of
kindness on the one side, and an overwhelming sympathy on the other, and
were drawn together by hours of mutual anxie