He did then, but he did not give her a chance to look at him. He locked his arms about her, bringing her close to his breast; and for a few minutes, in utter silence, they knew what strange sweetness pure affection can mingle, even in the communion of sorrow. There were tears shed in those minutes that, bitter as they seemed at the time, memory knew had been largely qualified with another admixture.

"Dear Hugh," said Fleda, "let us keep what we can—won't you go to bed, and rest ?"

He looked dreadfully as if he needed it. But the usual calmness and sweetness of his face was not altered-it was only deepened to very great sadness. Mentally, Fleda thought, he had borne the shock better than his mother-for the bodily frame she trembled. He had not answered, and she spoke again.

"You need it worse than I, poor Fleda."

"I will go too, presently—I do not think anybody will be here to-night."

"Is-Are there Is this what has taken him away?" said Hugh.

Her silence and her look told him, and then, laying her cheek again alongside of his, she whispered (how unsteadily!)"We have only one help, dear Hugh."

They were still and quiet again for minutes, counting the pulses of pain, till Fleda came back to her poor wish “to keep what they could." She mixed a restorative of wine and water which, however little desired, she felt was necessary for both of them, and Hugh went up stairs. She stayed a few minutes to prepare another glass, with particular care, for her aunt. It was just finished, and, taking her candle, she had bid Barby good-night, when there came a loud rap at the front door. Fleda set down candle and glass, from the quick inability to hold them, as well as for other reasons, and she and Barby stood and looked at each other, in such a confusion of doubt and dread, that some little time had passed before either stirred even her eyes. Barby then threw down the tongs with which she had begun to make preparations for covering up the fire, and set off to the front.

"You mustn't open the door, Barby," cried Fleda, following her. "Come in here, and let us look out of one of the windows."

Before this could be reached, however, there was another

prolonged repetition of the first thundering burst. It went through Fleda's heart, because of the two up stairs who must hear it.

Barby threw up the sash.

"Who's there?"

"Is this Mr Rossitur's place?" inquired a gruff voice. "Yes, it is."

"Well, will you come round and open the door?" "Who wants it open ?"

"A lady wants it open."

"A lady!-what lady?"

"Down yonder, in the carriage."

“What lady?—who is she?”

"I don't know who she is-she wanted to come to Mr Rossitur's place—will you open the door for her?”

Barby and Fleda both now saw a carriage standing in the road.

"We must see who it is first," whispered Fleda.

“When the lady comes, I'll open the door," was Barby's ultimatum.

The man withdrew to the carriage, and, after a few moments of intense watching, Fleda and Barby certainly saw something in female apparel, enter the little gate of the court-yard, and come up over the bright, moonlit snow towards the house, accompanied by a child; while the man with whom they had had the interview, came behind, transformed into an unmistakable baggage-carrier.

CHAPTER XIII.

"Zeal was the spring whence flowed her hardiment."

FAIRFAX.

BARBY undid bolt and lock, and Fleda met the traveller in the hall. She was a lady; her air and dress shewed that, though the latter was very plain.

"Does Mr Rossitur live here?" was her first word.

Fleda answered it, and brought her visitor into the sittingroom. But the light falling upon a form and face that had seen more wear and tear than time, gave her no clue as to the who or what of the person before her. The stranger's hurried look around the room seemed to expect something.

"Are they all gone to bed?"

"All but me," said Fleda.

"We have been delayed-we took a wrong road—we've been riding for hours to find the place-hadn't the right direction." Then looking keenly at Fleda, from whose vision an electric spark of intelligence had scattered the clouds, she said

"I am Marion Rossitur."

"I knew it!" said Fleda, with lips and eyes that gave her already a sister's welcome; and they were folded in each other's arms almost as tenderly and affectionately, on the part of one at least, as if there had really been the relationship between them. But more than surprise and affection struck Fleda's heart.

"And where are they all, Fleda ? Can't I see them?"

“You must wait till I have prepared them-Hugh and aunt Lucy are not very well. I don't know that it will do for you to see them at all to-night, Marion."

"Not to-night! They are not ill?"

66

No-only enough to be taken care of-not ill. But it would be better to wait."

"And my father?"

"He is not at home."

Marion exclaimed in sorrow, and Fleda, to hide the look that she felt was on her face, stooped down to kiss the child. He was a remarkably fine-looking, manly boy.

"That is your cousin, Fleda," said his mother.

"No-aunt Fleda," said the person thus introduced— "don't put me off into cousindom, Marion. Hugh's sister-and so I am your aunt Fleda. you?”

"Rolf Rossitur Schwiden."

I am uncle
Who are

How was

Alas, how wide are the ramifications of evil! what might have been very pure pleasure utterly poisoned and turned into bitterness! It went through Fleda's heart with a keen pang, when she heard that name and looked on the very fair brow that owned it, and thought of the ineffaceable stain that had come upon both. She dared look at nobody but the child. He already understood the melting eyes that were making acquaintance with his, and half felt the pain that gave so much tenderness to her kiss, and looked at her with a grave face of awakening wonder and sympathy. Fleda was glad to have business to call her into the kitchen.

"Who is it?" was Barby's immediate question.

"Aunt Lucy's daughter."

"She don't look much like her!" said Barby, intelligently.

66

They will want something to eat, Barby."

"I'll put the kettle on. It'll boil directly. I'll go in there and fix up the fire."

A word or two more, and then Fleda ran up to speak to her aunt and Hugh.

Her aunt she found in a state of agitation that was frightful. Even Fleda's assurances, with all the soothing arts she could bring to bear, were some minutes before they could in any measure tranquillise her. Fleda's own nerves were in no condition to stand another shock, when she left her and went to Hugh's door. But she could get no answer from him, though

she spoke repeatedly.

She did not return to her aunt's room. She went down stairs, and brought up Barby and a light from thence.

Hugh was lying senseless and white-not whiter than his

adopted sister, as she stood by his side. Her eye went to her companion.

"Not a bit of it," said Barby-"he's in nothing but a faint --just run down stairs and get the vinegar bottle, Fleda-the pepper vinegar. Is there any water here?"

Fleda obeyed, and watched—she could little more-the efforts of Barby, who indeed needed no help with the cold water, the vinegar, and rubbing of the limbs. They were for some time unsuccessful-the fit was a severe one, and Fleda was exceedingly terrified before any signs of returning life came to reassure her.

"Now you go down stairs and keep quiet!" said Barby, when Hugh was fairly restored, and had smiled a faint answer to Fleda's kiss and explanations-"Go, Fleda! you ain't fit to stand. Go and sit down some place, and I'll be along directly and see how the fire burns. Don't you s'pose Mis' Rossitur could come in, and sit in this easy-chair a spell without hurting herself?"

It occurred to Fleda immediately, that it might do more. good than harm to her aunt if her attention were diverted even by another cause of anxiety. She gently summoned her, telling her no more than was necessary to fit her for being Hugh's nurse, and, in a very few minutes, she and Barby were at liberty to attend to other claims upon them. But it sank into her heart, "Hugh will not get over this!"—and when she entered the sitting-room, what Mr Carleton, years before, had said of the wood-flower, was come true in its fullest extent-"A storm-wind had beaten it to the ground."

She was able literally to do no more than Barby had said— sit down and keep herself quiet. Miss Elster was in her briskest mood-flew in and out-made up the fire in the sitting-room, and put on the kettle in the kitchen, which she had been just about doing when called to see Hugh. The much-needed supper of the travellers must be still waited for; but the fire was burning now, the room was cosily warm and bright, and Marion drew up her chair with a look of thoughtful contentment. Fleda felt as if some conjuror had been at work there for the last few hours-the room looked so like and felt so unlike itself. "Are you going to be ill too, Fleda?" said Marion, suddenly. "You are looking-very far from well!"

"I shall have a headache to-morrow," said Fleda, quietly— "I generally know the day beforehand."