Then she thought again of her mingled motives, of how glad she had been that she had befriended Jim because she could claim him as an acquaintance as a prince, in that foreign country, and how she had wished that she might entertain more traveling members of the nobility in his country in order to have more acquaintances at court. "If the poor are Christ's brothers and sisters," she said to herself, "I have abundant opportunity to make many friendships which may be carried over into that unknown country;" and a new purpose awoke in her heart, which had for its spring not the most unselfish motives, but a strong one, and destined to achieve good work, and to give place in time to higher aims.
Afternoon came, and no message had arrived from Jim. "Girls," said Adelaide, as we sat in the Amen Corner, "if Jim dies, I propose that we carry this sort of work on of fitting poor children for something higher, and broaden it, as a memorial to him. I don't exactly see my way yet, but we can do a good deal if we band together and try."
"Oh! don't talk about Jim's dying," said Milly, "we'll do it, anyway."
"I can't see why we don't hear from Miss Prillwitz," said Winnie, impatiently. "It is recreation hour; let us go out into the park, and perhaps she will see us and send us some word."
We walked around and around the paths which were in view from Miss Prillwitz's windows. Presently we saw Mary Hetterman coming toward us with a note in her hand.
"I know just what that note says," exclaimed Milly, sinking upon a bench. "The little prince has gone to his estates."
"Hush!" exclaimed Adelaide. "See! is it a ghost?" We looked as she pointed, and saw at Jim's window a perfect representation of Adelaide's cameo. A white face against the dark interior. It vanished as she spoke, leaving us all with a strange, eerie sensation, a feeling that this was certainly an omen of Jim's death. But our premonitions, like so many others, did not come true. The note was not for us. Mary Hetterman passed us with a smile and a nod, and a moment later Miss Prillwitz herself came out to us.
We knew by her face that she brought good news, but none of us spoke until she answered our unuttered question.
"No, tears, Jim haf not gone. Ze prince haf been here, but I sink he not take him zis time already. The doctor sink we keep him one leetle time longer. I cannot stay. It is time I go give him his medicine, and let loose ze nurse, for I care for him ze nights. Good-bye, my tears. Ah! I am so happy zat ze little prince go not yet to his estates; so happy, and yet so sleepy also." And we noticed for the first time the great dark rings which want of sleep and anxiety had drawn around Miss Prillwitz's eyes.
"Good-bye, princess," I cried; "surely no one deserves that title more than you, for you have proved yourself a royal daughter of the King. We have called you so a long time among ourselves—our Princess del Paradiso."