Truly it was a sorrowful time, and very faint were the hopes either of the watchers dared entertain, as their beloved one seemed to be fading away.

It was Sunday evening, and Maude could not help looking more than once at her watch. She had not seen Mr. Hastings all day, for his duties had taken up a great part of his time, and after church, when he had gone as usual to read to his sister, a visit from her mother had detained Maude. So, was it any wonder that she should look forward to tea-time? She feared he would be sadly tired; she knew he had been up the greater part of the night before. The hour struck at last, and Margaret asked for some tea:

"Some of your tea, Maude. I must drink tea with you to-night; do go and make it. Frank will be in presently, I am sure; but do not send me any until he comes, or it will break the spell. I shall fancy that I am drinking tea with you once more."

Maude's eyes

filled with tears as she went

down stairs. Other nights she had waited until the maid had announced that tea was ready, when she had gone down to pour out a cup for Mr. Hastings and herself, and give her report of the invalid. To-night, however, everything seemed to have gone wrong; there was no tea ready, no lights in the room, and as she walked across towards the bell, the dying firelight enabled her to see that Mr. Hastings was sitting on the sofa, with his head buried in the cushions.

A rush of mingled feelings swept through Maude's mind. Compassion for his deep sorrow, and for that yet deeper which she feared was too surely coming upon him; then one vivid picture flashed across her of his utter desolation when that anguish should strike him to the heart. She went softly up to him, and laid her hand upon his shoulder: "Mr. Hastings," she said, in a choking voice.

He started, and looked up quickly, with

such anguish written on his pale face, that she could scarcely nerve herself to continue:

“Dear Mr. Hastings, do not-do not despair; she seems better this evening;" and she told him Margaret's wishes about the

tea.

Maude soon made the desolate room assume a more hopeful aspect, and after all it was a more cheerful meal than they had had for some time. Their hopes were confirmed on the following morning by the opinion of the medical man, who announced that the crisis was past, and that he had now every hope of his patient's recovery, but that for many days she would still require the greatest care.

"No, you need not look at me so beseechingly," said Maude, "I assure you I have not the least intention of vacating my post so soon-unless indeed, you are tired of me?" she added.

"Only promise that you will stay till that time," said Margaret, pressing her hand and

looking at her so earnestly that it brought the colour to her brow.

"Nay Margaret, now you are unreasonable," said Mr. Hastings, quietly, "you must not become spoilt by having everything you wish-it is not good for any of us."

Maude felt a little disappointed-she fancied Mr. Hastings also might have expressed a wish for her to remain, and a dread that her presence was in some way or other a restraint upon him, fell like a cold chill upon her spirit.

"A few days longer," she thought—and I shall be able to leave Margaret safely, and then I will only visit her when I shall be sure not to find him at home; I dare say he will be glad to have the house to themselves again."

CHAPTER XIV.

BRIGHTLY and smoothly the months rolled on with the newly-married pair, and it had not entered Eleanor's head that anything could have increased her present happiness, until one day when the always anxiously looked for mail packet brought her an unusually long letter from Maude. Maude too was going to be as happy as herself-Maude had accepted Mr. Hastings!

"Dear Eleanor," she wrote, "what will you think of my unchangeableness?—but I must tell you how it happened—Margaret has been ill, quite three months, and unable to leave the house-of course I spent much