could not buy a tender, faithful friend to serve for love, and ask
no wages but his comfort.

He knew this, and felt the vain regret that inevitably comes to
those who waste life and learn the value of good gifts by their
loss. But he was not wise or brave enough to bear his punishment
manfully, and lay the lesson honestly to heart. Fretful and
imperious when in pain, listless and selfish when at ease, his one
aim in life now was to kill time, and any thing that aided him in
this was most gratefully welcomed.

For a long while he took no more notice of Christie than if she had
been a shadow, seldom speaking beyond the necessary salutations, and
merely carrying his finger to his hat-brim when he passed her on the
beach with the children. Her first dislike was softened by pity when
she found he was an invalid, but she troubled herself very little
about him, and made no romances with him, for all her dreams were of
younger, nobler lovers.

Busied with her own affairs, the days though monotonous were not
unhappy. She prospered in her work and the children soon believed in
her as devoutly as young Turks in their Prophet. She devised
amusements for herself as well as for them; walked, bathed, drove,
and romped with the little people till her own eyes shone like
theirs, her cheek grew rosy, and her thin figure rounded with the
promise of vigorous health again.

Christie was at her best that summer, physically speaking, for
sickness had refined her face, giving it that indescribable
expression which pain often leaves upon a countenance as if in