ft her, was a
painful one to her loving heart. Yet the pain of these thoughts did
not disturb her. The joy that arose from the consciousness of Hilda's
safety was of itself sufficient to counterbalance all else. Her
safety was so unexpected, and the one fact was so overwhelming, that
the happiness which it caused was sufficient to overmaster any
sorrowful sympathy which she might feel for Hilda's misfortunes. So,
if her night was sleepless, it was not sad. Rather it was joyful; and
often and often, as the hours passed, she repeated that prayer of
thankfulness which the first perusal of the letter had caused.

Besides this, the thought of going on to join Hilda was a pleasant
one. Her friend had been so thoughtful that she had arranged all for
her.

No companion could be more appropriate or more reliable than Mr.
Gualtier, and he would certainly make his appearance shortly. She
thought also of the pleasure of living in Naples, and recalled all
that she had ever heard about the charms of that place. Amidst such
thoughts as these morning came, and it was not until after the sun
had risen that Zillah fell asleep.

Two days after the receipt of that letter by Zillah, Gualtier
arrived. Although he had been only a music-teacher, yet he had been
associated in the memory of Zillah with many happy hours at
Chetwynde; and his instructions at Pomeroy Court, though at the time
irksome to her, were now remembered pleasantly, since they were
connected with the memories of her father; and on this occasion he
had the additional advantage of being specially sent by Hilda. He
seemed thus in her mind to be in some sort connected with Hilda. She
had not seen him since the Earl's illness, and had understood from
Hilda that he had gone to London to practice his profession.

As Gualtier entered, Zillah greeted him with a warmth which was
unusual from her to him, but which can readily be accounted for under
the circumstances. He seemed surprised and pleased. His small gray
eyes twinkled, and his sallow cheeks flushed with involuntary delight
at such marks of condescension. Yet in his manner and address he was
as humble and as servile as ever. His story was shortly told. He had
received, he said, a short note from Miss Krieff, by which he learned
that, owing to an act of thoughtlessness on her part, she had gone
adrift in a boat, and had been picked up by a ship on its way to
Naples, to which place she had been carried. He understood that s