ery weak, and I must prepare him
first. He thinks you are dead."

"Dead!" Bessie repeated. "How can he think so? I do not understand."

As briefly as possible Miss Grey explained all she knew of the mistake
which the messenger boy must have made when he told Grey, in Florence,
that Bessie had died the very day he left Rome.

"Oh, yes, I see," Bessie rejoined. "It was the American girl on the
same floor with me. Flossie told me of her, and I heard them taking her
away that night. Oh, it was so sad; and Mr. Jerrold thought it was I!
Was he sorry, Miss Grey?"

She asked the question timidly, and into her eyes there came a look of
great gladness when her friend replied:

"Yes, very, very sorry."

"Will you tell him I am not dead? It was poor mamma who died. Tell him I
am here," Bessie continued; and Miss Grey looked curiously at the girl,
who, being, as she supposed, engaged to Neil, could be so glad that Grey
was sorry, and so eager to see him.

"Yes, I will tell him and bring him to you after a little; but you must
be quiet, and not excite yourself too much. I must have you well when we
reach New York, and we have only three days more," Miss Grey replied,
and then, with a kiss, she went away to Grey's state-room at the other
end of the ship.

But he was not there, and upon inquiry she learned that he had gone up
on deck, where she found him in his chair, sitting by himself, and
gazing out upon the sea, with that sad, troubled look on his face, which
had of late become habitual, and of which she now knew the reason.

"Grey," she said, drawing an unoccupied chair close to him, and speaking
very low, "you are better this morning. Do you think you can bear some
very good news?"

"Yes," he answered her. "What is it? Are we nearer New York than we
supposed?"

"No; it has nothing to do with New York, or the ship, but somebody in
it. Grey"--and Lucy spoke hurriedly now--"did it never occur to you that
possibly you were mistaken with regard to Bessie's death--that it might
be some one else who died in Rome and was buried at Stoneleigh--her
mother, perhaps?"

"What!" and Grey drew a long, gasping breath, as he stared wonderingly
at her. "Go on," he added: "tell me what you mean."

"I mean," his aunt replied, "that Bessie is not dead. I have seen her. I
have spoken with her. She is on the ship. She is in my state-room,
waiting for you. She is the sick girl I told you about."

Grey made an effort to spring from his