She reached home in a sad and tearful mood.  Ella, however, proved so entertaining and mirth-provoking a companion, that the evening passed quickly, and by no means unpleasantly.

But when the two had retired to their respective apartments, Zoe felt very lonely, and said to herself that she would rather have Edward there, even silent and displeased, as he had been for several days past, than be without him.

Her last thought before falling asleep, and her first on awaking next morning, were of him.

“Oh, dear!” she sighed half aloud, as she opened her eyes, and glanced round the room, “what shall I do if he doesn’t come to-day?  I’ll have to stand it, of course; but what does a woman do who has no husband?” And for the first time she began to feel some sympathy for Miss Deane, as a lonely maiden lady.

She thought a good deal about her unwelcome guest while attending to the duties of the toilet, and determined to treat her with all possible kindness during the remainder of her enforced stay at Ion.  So, meeting, on her way to the breakfast-room, the old negress who had been given charge of Miss Deane through the night, she stopped her, and asked how her patient was.

“Jes’ pow’ful cross dis hyar mawnin’, Miss Zoe,” was the reply, in a tone of disgust.  “Dar isn’t one ob de fambly dat would be makin’ half de fuss ef dey’d sprained bofe dey’s ankles.  Doan ye go nigh her, honey, fear she bite yo’ head off.”

“Indeed I sha’n’t, Aunt Phillis, if there’s any danger of that,” laughed Zoe.  “But as she can’t jump up and run after me, I think I shall be quite safe if I don’t go within arm’s-length of her sofa.”

“She’s pow’ful cross,” repeated Aunt Phillis:  “she done gone call dis chile up time an’ again fru de night; an’ when I ax her, ‘Whar yo’ misery at?’ she say, ‘In my ankle, ob c’ose, yo’ ole fool you!  Cayn’t yo’ hab nuff sense to change de dressin’?’”

“Who is that has been so polite and complimentary to you, Aunt Phillis?” cried a merry voice in their rear.

Ella was descending the stairway at whose foot they stood, as they perceived, on turning at the sound of her voice.

“Good-morning, cousin:  how bright and well you are looking!” said Zoe.

“Just as I feel.  And how are you, Mrs. Travilla?  I trust you did not spend the night in crying over Ned’s absence?” was the gay rejoinder.

“No, not nearly all of it,” returned Zoe, catching her spirit of fun.

“Mawnin’, Miss Ella,” said the old nurse, dropping a courtesy. “’Twas de lady what sprain her foot yisteday I was talkin’ bout to Miss Zoe.”

“Ah! how is she?”

“I doan’ t’ink she gwine die dis day, Miss Ella,” laughed the nurse, “she so pow’ful cross; and dey do say folks is dat way when dey’s gittin’ bettah.”

“Yes, I have always heard it was a hopeful sign, if not an agreeable one,” Ella remarked, “Was that the breakfast-bell I heard just now?”