you look! You are sick,
mother!" she added in tones of grief and anxiety, as she drew her into
the hall, where by this time the rest of the family--Grandma Elsie, and
Mr. and Mrs. Leland and their children--were gathered.

"Sister Laura! is it possible! Welcome to Fairview," was Mrs. Leland's
greeting, accompanied by a warm embrace.

"Laura! we did not even know you were in America!" Mr. Leland said,
grasping her hand in brotherly fashion. "And how weary and ill you are
looking! Let me help you off with your bonnet and cloak and to a couch
here in the parlour."

"Thank you; yes, I'll be very glad to lie down, for I'm worn out with my
journey and this troublesome cough," she said, struggling with a renewed
paroxysm and gasping for breath. "But my luggage and----"

"We'll attend to all that," he said, half carrying her to the couch
where his wife and her mother were arranging the pillows for her
comfort, and laying her gently down upon it.

"Oh, mother; my poor dear mother!" sighed Evelyn, as she leaned over
her, smoothing her hair with caressing hand, "it breaks my heart to see
you looking so weary and ill. But we will soon nurse you back to health
and strength--uncle and aunt and I."

"I hope so, indeed," Mrs. Leland said in her sweet, gentle tones. "You
have had most unpleasant weather for your journey, Laura, so that it is
not to be wondered at that you are exhausted. You must have some
refreshment at once," and with the last word she hastened away in search
of it.

"And here is something to relieve that dreadful cough," said Mrs.
Travilla, presenting herself with a delicate china cup in her hand.

Evelyn introduced the two ladies, and her mother, being assured that the
cup contained nothing unpleasant to the taste, quickly swallowed its
contents, then lay back quietly upon her pillows, still keeping fast
hold of her daughter's hand, while Grandma Elsie, giving the cup to a
servant to carry away, resumed her easy chair on the farther side of the
room--near enough to be ready to render assistance should it be needed,
yet not so near as to interfere with any private talk between the long
separated mother and daughter--and her grandchildren again gathered
about her. But they seemed awed into silence by the presence of the
stranger invalid, whom they gazed upon with pitying curiosity, while her
attention seemed equally occupied with them.

"Your uncle's children?" she asked of Evelyn in a tone scarcely louder