she lay, cost a hundred dollars, and the rosewood crib was perfect
of its kind, but there was a great lack of neatness and order; and
as day after day Mr. Hastings stood with folded arms, looking
first from one window and then from the other, his thoughts were
far from being agreeable, save when he bent over the cradle of his
first-born, and then there broke over his face a look of
unutterable tenderness, which was succeeded by a shade of deep
anxiety as his eye rested upon his frail young wife, whose face
seemed whiter even than the pillow on which it lay.

After a few weeks, during which time Ella had gained a little
strength and was able to see her friends, Eugenia came regularly
to Rose Hill, sitting all day by the bedside of the invalid, to
whom she sometimes brought a glass of water, or some such trivial
thing. Occasionally, too, she would look to see if the baby were
asleep, pronouncing it "a perfect little cherub, just like its
mother;" and there her services ended, for it never occurred to
her that she could make the room much more cheerful by picking up
and putting away the numerous articles which lay scattered around,
and which were a great annoyance to the more orderly Mr. Hastings.
Once, when Ella, as usual, was expatiating upon her goodness,
asking her husband if she were not the best girl in the world, and
saying "they must make her some handsome present in return for all
she had done," he replied, "I confess, I should think more of Miss
Deane, if she did you any real good, or rendered you any actual
service; but, as far as I can discover, she merely sits here
talking to you until you are wearied out."

"Why, what would you have her do?" asked Ella, her large blue eyes
growing larger and bluer.