her when she does."

Quentyns smothered an impatient exclamation. After a pause he said
gently:

"As you please, dear; I will bring something up myself to the dressing
room for you," and he stole on tip-toe out of the room.

Nothing could be more patient than his manner, and Hilda reproached
herself for the feeling of irritation which his presence gave her.

There came a sigh from the bed--the faintest of sounds; Mrs. Quentyns
turned her head quickly, and saw to her rapture that Judy's big
greeny-gray eyes were wide open and fixed earnestly on her face. There
was no surprise in the pretty eyes, nor any additional color in the pale
little face.

"Hilda," said Judy, "I _thought_ it was only a bad dream--you never
went away, did you?"

"I am never going to leave you again, Judy," replied her sister; "never,
never, as long as we both live. I vow--I promise--nothing shall part us,
nothing except death."

Hilda flung herself on her knees by the child's bed, and burst into
hysterical sobs.

CHAPTER XII.

HILDA'S ENGAGEMENT RING.

My heart is heavy for scorn,
Mine eyes with impatient tears,
But heaven looks blue through the cherry-blooms,
And preaches away my fears.

--EMILY PFEIFFER.

Contrary to the doctor's fears, and in accordance with Hilda's hopes,
Judy grew better. A weight had been lifted from her heart--her starved
affections were nourished and soothed once more. Hilda scarcely ever
left her room, and Hilda's presence was perpetual sunshine to the child.

No one could possibly have behaved better than Quentyns did during this
trying time. A certain feeling of compunction had visited him when he
discovered how real Judy's illness was. He was assailed by a momentary
pricking of his conscience, but as the little girl quickly grew better,
and was soon pronounced by the doctor to be quite out of danger, it was
but natural that an active man of the world like Quentyns should wish to
return to town, should find the quiet Rectory simply unendurable, and
also that he should wish to take his young wife with him.

The Quentyns arrived at Staunton Rectory on a certain Wednesday, and on
the following Sunday evening Quentyns thought the time had arrived for
him to speak to Hilda about their return to town. He had not seen much
of her during the days which had intervened, and he was obliged now to
send Babs with a message to Judy's room to ask his wife to come to