"I have been walking about, my child, in
the fine bright sunshine," he said, "and
waiting to give your face plenty of time to
look happy, so that I might see it again as I
want to see it always, for the rest of my life.
Aha, Sarah! it is I who have brought the
right doctor to cure you! " he added gaily,
looking at Rosamond. " She has made you
better already: wait but a little while longer,
and she shall get you up from your bed again,
with your two cheeks as red, and your heart
as light, and your tongue as fast to chatter
as mine. See! the fine flowers, and the fruit
I have bought that is nice to your eyes, and
nice to your nose, and nicest of all to put into
your mouth. It is festival-time with us to-day,
and we must make the room bright, bright,
bright, all over. And then, there is your
dinner to come soon; I have seen it on the
dish—a cherub among chicken-fowls! And,
after that, there is your fine sound sleep,
with Mozart to sing the cradle-song, and
with me to sit for watch, and to go down
stairs when you wake up again, and fetch you
your cup of tea. Ah, my child, my child,
a fine thing it is to have come at last to
this festival-day!"

With a bright look at Rosamond, and with
both his hands full of flowers, he turned
away from his niece to begin decorating the
room. Except when she thanked the old
man for the presents he had brought, her
attention had never wandered, all the while
he had been speaking, from her daughter's
face; and her first words, when he was
silent again, were addressed to Rosamond
alone.

"While I am happy with my child," she
said, " I am keeping you from your. I, of
all persons, ought to be the last to part you
from each other too long. Go back now, my
love, to your husband and your child; and
leave me to my grateful thoughts and my
dreams of better times."

' If you please, answer Yes to that, for
your mother's sake." said Uncle Joseph,
before Rosamond could reply. " The doctor
says, she must take her repose in the day as
well as her repose in the night. And how
shall I get her to close her eyes, so long as
she has the temptation to keep them open
upon you?"

Rosamond felt the truth of those last
words, and consented to go back for a few
hours to the hotel, on the understanding that
she was to resume her place at the bedside
in the evening. After making this arrangement,
she waited long enough in the room
to see the meal brought up which Uncle
Joseph had announced, and to aid the old
man in encouraging her mother to partake
of it. When the tray had been removed, and
when the pillows of the bed had been
comfortably arranged by her own hands, she at
last prevailed on herself to take leave.

Her mother's arms lingered round her
neck; her mother's cheek nestled fondly
against hers. " Go, my dear, go now, or I
shall get too selfish to part with you even
for a few hours," murmured the sweet voice
in its lowest, softest tones. " My own
Rosamond! I have no words to bless you that
are good enough; no words to thank you
that will speak as gratefully for me as they
ought! Happiness has been long in reaching
me,—but, oh how mercifully it has come at
last!"

Before she passed the door, Rosamond
stopped and looked back into the room.
The table, the mantel-piece, the little framed
prints on the wall were bright with flowers;
the musical-box was just playing the first
sweet notes of the air from Mozart; Uncle
Joseph was seated already in his accustomed
place by the bed, with the basket of fruit on
his knees; the pale, worn face on the pillow
was tenderly lighted up by a smile: peace
and comfort, and repose, all mingled together
happily in the picture of the sick room, all
joined in leading Rosamond's thoughts to
dwell quietly on the hope of a happier time.

Three hours passed. The last glory of the
sun was lighting the long summer day to its
rest in the western heaven, when Rosamond
returned to her mother's bedside.

She entered the room softly. The one
window in it looked towards the west, and
on that side of the bed the chair was placed
which Uncle Joseph had occupied when she
left him, and in which she now found him
still seated on her return. He raised his
finger to his lips, and looked towards the bed,
as she opened the door. Her mother was
asleep, with her hand resting in the hand of
the old man.

As Rosamond noiselessly advanced, she
saw that Uncle Joseph's eyes looked dim and
weary. The constraint of the position that
he occupied, which made it impossible for
him to move without the risk of awakening
his niece, seemed to be beginning to fatigue
him. Rosamond removed her bonnet and
shawl, and made a sign to him to rise and
let her take his place.

"Yes, yes! " she whispered, seeing him
reply by a shake of the head. " Let me take
my turn, while you go out a little and enjoy
the cool evening air. There is no fear of
waking her: her hand is not clasping your's,
but only resting in it—let me steal mine into
its place gently, and we shall not disturb her."

She slipped her hand under her mother's
while she spoke. Uncle Joseph smiled as
he rose from his chair, and resigned his place
to her. " You will have your way," he said;
" you are too quick and sharp for an old
man like me."

"Has she been long asleep?" asked
Rosamond.

"Nearly two hours," answered Uncle
Joseph. " But it has not been the good
sleep I wanted for her;—a dreaming, talking,
restless sleep. It is only ten little minutes,