e you
could do more for her than any other person here could--later, I
mean--she is so fond of you." He paused; what he had said seemed to come
back to him. "Both of them, mother and daughter, appear to have selected
you as their ideal of goodness," he went on; "I hope you appreciate the
compliment." This time the slight, very slight indication of sarcasm
showed itself again in his tone.

"Is it possible that you think the poor mother really in danger?" said
Margaret, paying no heed, apparently, to his last remark.

"She has evidently grown very weak, and I have never thought she had any
strength to spare. But it is only my own idea, I ought to tell you, that
she is--that she may not recover."

"I will go as soon as possible; early to-morrow morning," said Margaret.
"But if I do--" She hesitated. "I am afraid Aunt Katrina will be lone--I
mean I fear she might feel deserted if left alone."

"Alone--with Minerva and Telano and Cindy, and the mysterious factotum
called Maum Jube?"

"There would still be no companion, no one for her to talk to."

"How you underrate the conversation of Celestine! I should, of course,
come in often."

"I think that if you should stay in the house, while I am gone, it would
be better," answered Margaret.

"To try and make up, in some small degree, for what she loses when she
loses you?"

"Whatever you please, so long as you come," she responded.

The next morning she went down to East Angels. Garda received her
joyously. "Oh, Margaret, mamma is better, really better."

It was true. The fever had subsided, the symptoms of pneumonia had
passed away; the patient was very weak, but Dr. Kirby was now hopeful.
He had taken his mother back to Gracias, but the kind-hearted Betty
remained, sending by the Kirbys a hundred messages of regret to her
dearest Katrina that their separation must still continue.

Later in the day Margaret paid her first visit to the sick-room. Mrs.
Thorne was lying with her eyes closed, looking very white and still; but
as soon as she perceived who it was that had entered, a change came over
her; she still looked white, but she seemed more alive; she raised
herself slightly on one arm, and beckoned to the visitor.

"Now don't try to talk, that's a dear," said Mrs. Carew, who was sitting
on the other side of the bed, fanning the sick woman with tireless hand.

Mrs. Thorne slowly turned her head towards Betty, and surveyed her
solemnly with eyes which seemed to