y little things for mammy, who is now
very feeble, and requires constant attention. It is long since she has
risen from her bed, and she is for the greater part of the time in a
sleep or stupor. Sometimes she revives a little, and seeing, perhaps,
some neighbors or friends in the room, will say, "Now you must all stay
to tea," or, "Is anybody sick in your neighborhood?" and then drop off
again.

I watched Elinor, as she bent over the bed, with tears in my eyes, but
joy in my heart. When I left the room, she followed me out, and sat down
near me, and whispered, "Let us talk about _him_."

And then we spoke freely of our dear Frederic,--spoke of his noble
heart, of his goodness, of all his pleasant ways. Many little incidents
of his life were remembered.

"Frederic is in heaven," I whispered.

"I know he is," she answered calmly, and as if she knew with a knowledge
not of earth.

* * * * *

_April 15._--Elinor has been growing more like herself ever since the
day I found her crying in Frederic's room. She busies herself about the
house, talks cheerfully with her grandfather, and does much for his
comfort. Good old man! He said to me, the other day: "Walter, I am very
wicked. I do not mourn for Frederic. My days here are but few; and I
rejoice to think that, when I pass over the river, he will welcome me to
the other shore. I strive against this happy thought, but it will come.
I wanted to tell somebody of my wicked feelings."

"O, don't talk to me so!" I said, "don't call yourself wicked."

I shall always love Aunt Bethiah, she is so kind to him and to us all.
She loved Frederic dearly, in her way. I have noticed that she never
sets on the table, at meal-times, the things he used to like best.

* * * * *

_June 9._--All my anxiety about Elinor is gone. The color and the smiles
are coming back to her face, and the light to her eye. She is almost her
old self again. Only, when people have suffered a great deal, some sign
of it will always remain.

* * * * *

_June 12._--Yesterday, I brought in to her a bunch of wild-roses. She
put them in a tumbler, and carried them into mammy's room. This morning
she came out with her basket. "Let us be children again," she said. "Let
us go for some roses."

So we went over the hills; and, as we passed along the pasture-road, we
found ourselves walking hand in hand.

Every day I t