to her, content to watch and look, until she raised her head and smiled upon him as of old—­he would discharge by stealth those household duties which tasked her powers too heavily—­he would rise in the night to listen to her breathing in her sleep.  He who knows all, can only know what hopes and fears and thoughts of deep affection were in that one disordered brain, and what a change had fallen upon the poor old man.

Weeks crept on—­sometimes the child, exhausted, would pass whole evenings on a couch beside the fire.  At such times, the schoolmaster would read aloud to her, and seldom an evening passed but the bachelor came in and took his turn at reading.  During the daytime the child was mostly out of doors, and all the strangers who came to see the church, praised the child’s beauty and sense, and all the neighbors, and all the villagers, and the very schoolboys grew to have a fondness for poor Nell.

Meanwhile, in that busy world which Nell and her grandfather had left behind them so many months before, there had appeared a stranger, who gave up all his time and energy to endeavoring to trace the wanderers.  He was Nell’s grandfather’s younger brother, who had for many years been a traveller in distant lands, with almost no information of his brother.  His thoughts began to revert constantly to the days when they were boys together, and obeying the impulse which impelled him, he hastened home, arriving one evening at his brother’s door, only to find the wanderers gone.

By dint of ceaseless watchfulness and vigilance, at last he gained a clue to their retreat, and lost no time in following it up, taking with him Kit Nubbles, the errand-boy at the Shop in old days, who, though now in the employ of kind Mr. Garland, was still loyal to the memory of his beloved Miss Nelly—­and only too grateful to be allowed to go in search of her, with the stranger whom she would not recognize.  So together they journeyed to the peaceful village, where Nell and her grandfather were hidden, Kit carrying with him Nell’s bird in his own cage.  She would be glad to see it, he knew, but alas for Kit—­they found sweet Nell in the sleep that knows no waking on this our earth.

There, upon her little bed, she lay at rest.  The solemn stillness was no marvel now.

She was dead.  No sleep so beautiful and calm, so free from trace of pain, so fair to look upon.  She seemed a creature fresh from the hand of God, and waiting for the breath of life; not one who had lived and suffered death.

Her couch was dressed with here and there some winter berries and green leaves, gathered in a spot she had been used to favor.  “When I die, put near me something that has loved the light, and had the sky above it always.”  Those were her words.

She was dead.  Dear, gentle, patient, noble Nell was dead.  Her little bird—­a poor slight thing the pressure of a finger would have crushed—­was stirring nimbly in its cage; and the strong heart of its child-mistress was mute and motionless forever.