arge, spiritual eyes, she gazed up in the faces of the
watchers at her bed-side, with a vague, dreamy expression.

"Don't you know me, Edith?" asked her father, bending quickly over her.

"O, yes, father!" answered she faintly; "and that lady is my mother,"
she added, staring confusedly upon Louise, as if not yet in full
possession of her waking faculties.

Louise looked embarrassed, and the colonel hastened to say, "That is
Mrs. Edson, my dear, who watches with you to-night. You are wandering a
little, I fear."

"Well, where is my mother, then?" continued Edith, in the same strange
manner, which appeared to agitate her father deeply.

"My child," said he, in a soothing tone, "have I not often told you your
mother died when you was a very little girl?"

"I don't know," said Edith, "but last night I dreamed she came with a
pale face and bloody lips and stared so mournfully upon me. I wish you
would go and bring her to me, father."

"My daughter, do I not tell you she is in her grave?" said the father,
trembling with emotion. "How can I bring her to you?"

"Hannah Doliver told Rufus she would come if you would let her,"
continued the sick girl, in a reproachful tone, apparently not
understanding her father's words.

On hearing this, Col. Malcome started with a violent exclamation, which
alarmed Edith, and brought her at once into full possession of her
senses. Louise, who had marked, with her quick eye, the colonel's
strange excitement, approached and administered a reviving cordial to
the invalid. The father soon retired, leaving the watcher alone with her
charge.

As the hours dragged slowly on, many were the thoughts which passed
through Mrs. Edson's active brain, as to the cause of Edith's singular
words, and the anger and excitement evinced by her father. At length the
gray morning dawned, and Sylva, Edith's attendant, appeared to relieve
the watcher from her post.

As Louise was passing through the hall to gain the street, the door
suddenly opened, and Col. Malcome entered in cap and overcoat. He paused
and inquired if his daughter had passed a comfortable night, and, on
receiving an affirmative answer, proceeded to the drawing-room.

CHAPTER XXVI.

"The old days we remember;
How softly did they glide!
While, all untouched by worldly care,
We wandered side by side.
In those pleasant days, when the sun's las