It was a mild sunny morning. There had been rain, and it had dispelled the sharp wind so prevalent in our early summer. The sea lay glittering, and breaking into small crested waves. Aveline wrapped in shawls with a heavy cloak laid over her feet, sat reading upon the beach. Her mother had walked back to the house to give some forgotten order to the servants, and Aveline, as soon as Mrs. Fitzpatrick was out of sight, dropped her book, and clasping her hands on her knee, sat long gazing upon the moving line of water. It had become an exertion to her to read of late. The lines swam before her eyes, if she directed her attention to them for any length of time. Her appetite had declined; her spirits failed her; and her large eyes now filled with tears, as she remained listless, and quiet; gazing vacantly upon the slowly advancing waves.
Two or three merry peasant children were playing on the beach—urging each other closer and closer to the rippling water, and running back with shouts and laughter as the foam broke over their feet. When they came nearer to Aveline, their voices sank; they whispered to each other that it was the sick lady, and stole quietly one by one along the sand. But Aveline caught sight of them as they were passing, and beckoned them to her side.
"Come to me, Jane," said she "I wish to speak to you, I want to hear how your mother does?"
"Mother is better, Ma'am, thank you," said the girl. "Mother ate all the chicken broth," said a younger child pressing forward.
"I am glad to hear it," said Aveline, "does she sleep better, than she used?"
"Much better, Ma'am," said the girl, "the doctor says she may leave off taking the stuff at night."
"That is a good sign; and I hope you are very good children, and do nothing that might vex your mother; and that you try to help her as much as you can. It is so sad to be ill," said poor Aveline.
"Yes, Ma'am," said all the children together.
"It is such a comfort to her to have good little quiet children about her," said Aveline, in her gentle voice, "and it will be such a comfort to you to know that you have done all in your power to make her better."
Her earnest manner struck the children; they stood silent, looking stedfastly at her. At last Jane, the eldest, said timidly, "And you, Ma'am, are you getting better?"