contented as possible. I shall take good care of you."

As the hostess left the room a staid-looking, elderly negro woman
took a seat at the window and sewed silently, now and then glancing
toward the bed. Exhausted with pain and fatigue, Edna slept again,
and it was night when she opened her eyes and found Dr. Rodney and
Mrs. Murray at her pillow. The kind surgeon talked pleasantly for
some time, and, after giving ample instructions, took his leave,
exhorting his patient to keep up her fortitude and all would soon be
well. So passed the first day of her sojourn under the hospitable
roof which appeared so fortuitously to shelter her; and the child
thanked God fervently for the kind hands into which she had fallen.
Day after day wore wearily away, and at the end of a fortnight,
though much prostrated by fever and suffering, she was propped up in
bed by pillows, while Hagar, the servant, combed and plaited the
long, thick, matted hair. Mrs. Murray came often to the room, but
her visits were short, and though invariably kind and considerate,
Edna felt an involuntary awe of her, which rendered her manner
exceedingly constrained when they were together. Hagar was almost as
taciturn as her mistress, and as the girl asked few questions, she
remained in complete ignorance of the household affairs, and had
never seen any one but Mrs. Murray, Hagar, and the doctor. She was
well supplied with books, which the former brought from the library,
and thus the invalid contrived to amuse herself during the long,
tedious summer days. One afternoon in June, Edna persuaded Hagar to
lift her to a large, cushioned chair close to the open window which
looked out on the lawn; and here, with a book on her lap, she sat
gazing out at the soft blue sky, the waving elm boughs, and the
glittering plumage of a beautiful Himalayan pheasant, which seemed
in the golden sunshine to have forgotten the rosy glow of his native