almost down. No, it isn't the sun, it's because you never in
the world could stretch yourself out full length on the ground, as I'm
doing now. The ground's nice and warm, and I love to lie on it; but
you--you have always sat in chairs, you have been drilled."

"Yes, I have been drilled," answered Margaret, sombrely, looking at the
graceful figure on the shawl.

Garda did not notice the sombre tone, her attention was up in the sky.
After a while she said, "Mr. Winthrop hasn't been here to-day; I wonder
why?"

"He won't be able to come so often while I am here, he will have to see
to Aunt Katrina."

"Mist' Wintarp desiahs to know whedder you's tome, Miss Gyarda," said
the voice of old Pablo. "I tole him I _farnsied_ you was in de gyarden."
Pablo recognized Garda as a Duero; he treated her therefore with
respect, and benignant affection.

Winthrop now appeared at the garden gate, and Margaret rose.

"Perhaps I had better go in, too?" said Garda.

"No, stay as long as you like; I will send word, if your mother asks for
you," Margaret responded.

She left the garden by another way. When she had gone some distance, she
looked back. Garda had changed her position; she was still looking at
the sky, though she was no longer lying at length; she had curled
herself up, and was leaning against a dwarf tree. Winthrop was in
Margaret's place on the bench, and Garda had evidently spoken to him of
the sky, for he, too, was looking up.

But he did not look long; while Margaret stood there, his eyes dropped
to the figure at his feet. This was not surprising. There was nothing in
the sky that could approach it.

CHAPTER XIII.

Mrs. Thorne improved. She was still very weak, confined to her bed, and
the cough continued at intervals to rack her wasted frame. But there was
now no fever; she slept through the nights; she had always been so
delicate in appearance that she did not seem much more fragile now.
These at least were the assertions of her Gracias friends; her Gracias
friends were determined to believe that time and good nursing would
restore her. The nursing they attended to themselves, and with devoted
care, one succeeding the other day after day. Mrs. Thorne appreciated
their good offices; but she no longer concealed her preference for the
companionship, whenever it was to be obtained, of Margaret Harold.

"I have pretended so long!" she said to Margaret, when they were alone
together. "I am so tired of preten