cant glances were exchanged, which recalled the colour to Ellen's face. She sat up at once, quickly declaring that she was quite well.

'Very right,' said the young doctor, approvingly; 'exertion is salutary, so long as you avoid fatigue. I must prescribe a nervous mixture, though I believe that air and exercise, and cheerful society are the best medicines.'

was

With a flushed cheek and beating heart, Ellen declined the nervous mixture, as well as the further prescription of cheerful society. Living almost entirely in her own cabin, and yet appearing at the stated hours of meals, the inroads which sickness made upon her frame attracted no attention, although she was still the object of lively interest; and many a romance woven; while some said that she was unhappy, and some that she was only reserved and proud, as, indeed, the force she put upon herself gave her an air of stately beauty. But disease meanwhile had its course; and Ellen noted its swift and silent steps with a calm hopelessness, which only accelerated its progress. One strong earthly wish remained, that she might be spared to see Norah and her little ones; and as the ship approached its destination, and she felt this wish would be gratified, she thanked God and took courage.

ΟΝ

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

Elle étoit de ce monde, où les meilleures choses
Ont le pire destin:

Et Rose, elle a vecu ce que vivent les roses,

L'espace d'un matin.

DE MALESHERBE.

N the twentieth of December, the Falkland rounded the point of Table Bay, which brought her into smooth water and within sight of Cape Town. Several boats put out from the shore, to anticipate the delay which always occurs in bringing the ship alongside the quay; and Norah and her husband were in one of these, and eagerly scanned the various faces which lined the bulwarks of the Falkland, some admiring the bold outline of the Table Mountain, others intent on the progress of the boats, in which they hoped to discover friends or kindred; all in the pleasant excitement with which the prospect of treading on dry land is welcomed after a long voyage.

'I cannot see her,' said Norah, 'unless that is her straw bonnet.' But the owner of the bonnet in question turned her head as she spoke, and disclosed features in no degree resembling those of Ellen.

6 That will not do,' Norah observed. 'I can scarcely think she is on board, for she would

Y

certainly be looking out for us.

And how, I

wonder, am I to get up the ship's side?'

'By that swinging ladder,' said George, philosophically. It is a less disagreeable process than getting down again.'

With the aid of his strong arm, the ascent was accomplished; and Norah was repaid by receiving an affirmative reply to her eager enquiry, whether Miss Kerr was among the passengers. The captain, after looking round in search of her, suggested that she would be found in her cabin, where she spent most of her time. Leaving George on deck, Norah went below; and dubiously following the directions she received, to open the second door to the left, she advanced more confidently, when a bag, which had been a familiar object at Rose Cottage, met her eyes. But the words of welcome died away on her lips, and the smile with which she first discovered that

Ellen lay asleep, was exchanged, on a second glance, for an expression of dismay. The change which the last three months had wrought was, indeed, alarming: Ellen's form was wasted, her colour hectic, and a low sharp cough interrupted, even in sleep, her laboured breathing. Norah's voice broke down in the attempt to pronounce her name; but, at the half-uttered word, Ellen awoke with a look of trouble and bewilderment, quickly chased away by a smile of joyful recognition, as she flung her arms round Norah.

'Was I asleep?' she asked.

'So it seemed,' Norah answered, with an attempt to stifle the misgiving at her heart. It

showed great composure, to be able to take your siesta at such a time.'

"There was so much noise on deck that I did not sleep last night; and then I was tired by packing, and lay down to rest.'

'You ought not to have been sent out alone, to fag yourself with packing, or anything else,' said Norah, abruptly. Anne never hinted that you

were really ill.'

6

'She did not know; I did not know until lately. Oh Norah, I am so thankful to be with you.'

'I ought never to have left you,' said Norah, kissing Ellen's burning cheek again and again with passionate tenderness. All the world have been cruel and unkind, and you have pined for me; and now all will be well, will it not, dear? Once, and then no more, we must speak of your wrongs and sufferings, and then forget them.'

'Yes,' said Ellen; 'I should like to explain everything to you before-but where is George?'

'I will bring him to you here,' said Norah, her heart so full that she was glad to escape; and George was alarmed by the tearful, troubled face which met his enquiry, whether she had found her.

'Oh George! it is too dreadful. She says they did not know it when she left England; but she is very ill-so changed and saddened, that I fear the worst.'

'This climate, and care and tenderness, will work wonders,' said George; but he did not repeat the confident assertion when Ellen's wasted

and drooping form was clasped in his arms. He knew then that Norah's forebodings were just, and that their beautiful sister had come only to die.

They took her home; and for a few days there was one of those deceitful rallies which so often accompany decline. Medical alleviations appeared to produce their effect; and Ellen's cough almost disappeared, while her sleep and appetite improved. On Christmas Day, she went with the rest to the little wooden church which formed the centre of the settlement; and though silent and thoughtful, she did not appear exhausted nor unduly depressed throughout the day. In the evening, the little girls insisted on carrying Papa into the woods for a holiday stroll; and before he went, he arranged a sofa for Ellen below the broad eaves of the verandah, where she lay in contented enjoyment of the sweet sounds and sights around her, until Norah came out to join her.

'It is a beautiful world, Norah,' Ellen said, with a smile in which there was scarcely a shade of sadness; and Norah answered joyously

'Yes; and now you are able to enjoy it. This week has worked wonders.'

Ellen smiled again; but this time with an expression which brought fear instead of joy to Norah's heart. She knelt down beside the sofa, and said imploringly, 'Ellen, dear, you must not despond. The will has so much to do with recovery.'

'It is too late, Norah. I have thrown my life