of a new life and her hold of the promise which assured her that strength should not be wanting to live it until the end.  She did look over her several present duties and made up her mind to the self-denying and faithful performance of them; but then her longing came back, for a human hand to hold her and help her on the journey’s way.  And her head bowed to the chair-back; and it was a good while before she recollected again to look at the fire or at her charge in front of it.

Karen’s attitude was more easy; and Elizabeth excessively fatigued, with pain as well as weariness, felt inclined to steal off to bed and leave her door open, that she might readily hear if she was wanted.  But it occurred to her that Winthrop for his own ease never would have deserted his post.  She dismissed the thought of sleep and rest; and disposed herself to wear out the remnant of the night as she had begun it; in attendance on what she was not sure needed her attendance.

A longer night Elizabeth never knew, and with fear in the first part and watching in the last part of’ it, the morning found her really haggard and ill.  But Karen was no worse; and not knowing what to think about her, but comforting herself with the hope that at least her danger was not imminent, Elizabeth went to bed, coveting sleep inexpressibly, for its forgetfulness as well as its rest.  But sleep was not to be had so promptly.

“Miss ’Lizabeth! —­” And there stood Clam before her opening eyes, as fresh and as black as ever, with a clean turban in the last state of smartness.

“What is the matter?”

“Where will you have breakfast?  Karen ain’t goin’ at all at present.  Where will you have it?”

“Nowhere.”

“Will I clear her out of the kitchen?”

“No! —­ let her alone.  Mrs. Haye’s woman may see to breakfast in her mistress’s room —­ I don’t want anything —­ but sleep.  Let Karen have and do just what she wants.”

“Won’t Clam do as much!” —­ said the toss of the clean turban as its owner went out of the room.  And the issue was, a very nice little breakfast brought to Miss Haye’s bed-side in the space of half an hour.  Elizabeth was waked up and looked dubious.

“You want it,” said her handmaid.  “The Governor said you was to take it.”

“Is he here!” exclaimed Elizabeth, with an amount of fire in eye and action that, as Clam declared afterwards, “had like to have made her upset everything.”  But she answered demurely,

“He ain’t here just yet.  I guess he’s comin’, though.”

Elizabeth’s eye went down, and an eye as observant if not so brilliant as her own, watched how the pink tinge rose and mounted in the cheeks as she betook herself to the bread and coffee.  “Ain’t she eatin’ her breakfast like a good child!” said Clam to herself. “That put her down.”

And with a “Now you’ll sleep —­” Clam carried off the breakfast tray, and took care her mistress should have no second disturbance from anybody else.  Elizabeth only heard once or twice in the course of the day that nothing was wanted from her; so slept her sleep out.