g of him. He had yearnings and conceptions that
could not have been gratified in his former station; and for him an
artist's life would have been more than commonly uphill work--full
of trial. I wish you could have heard the murmured words that
showed what glorious images floated before him--no doubt now
realized."

"I am glad he was really good," were the only words that would come.

The hearts of both were so full, that these words on what was a
little further off were almost necessary to them.

"Take my arm," said Julius, kindly. "Our roads lie together down
the lane. How is your sister? Better, I hope, as I see you here."

"She has slept more quietly. Mr. M'Vie thinks her a little better."

"So it is with Terry de Lancey," said Julius; "he is certainly less
feverish to-day;" but there was no corresponding tone of gladness in
the voice, though he added, "Cecil is going on well too."

"And--" Poor Lenore's heart died within her; she could only press
his arm convulsively, and he had mercy on her.

"Frank's illness has been different in character from the others,"
he said; "the fever has run much higher, and has affected the brain
more, and the throat is in a very distressing state; but Dr. Worth
still does not think there are specially dangerous symptoms, and is
less anxious about him than Raymond."

"Ah! is it true?"

"He does not seem as ill as Frank; but there have been bleedings at
the nose, which have brought him very low, and which have hitherto
been the worst symptoms," and here the steady sadness of his voice
quivered a little.

Lenore uttered a cry of dismay, and murmured, "Your mother?"

"She is absorbed in him. Happily, she can be with him constantly.
They seem to rest in each other's presence, and not to look
forward."

"And Cecil?"

"It has taken the lethargic turn with Cecil. She is almost always
asleep, and is now, I believe, much better; but in truth we have
none of us been allowed to come near her. Her maid, Grindstone, has
taken the sole charge, and shuts us all out, for fear, I believe, of
our telling her how ill Raymond is."

"Oh, I know Grindstone."

"Who looks on us all as enemies. However, Raymond has desired us to
write to her father, and he will judge when he comes."

They were almost at the place of parting. Eleonora kept her hand on
his arm, longing for another word, nay, feeling that without it her
heart would burst. "Who is with Frank?"

"Anne. She hardl