"Yes, I was not very busy this week and thought I would come home last night," she said, warmly pressing the almost transparent fingers lying on the coverlid, adding brightly: "How well you look this morning!"
"I feel better," answered Ernestine, slowly. "So strangely better; all rested and in no pain. Where is mama?"
"Here, darling."
"I—I feel so much better, mama," lifting the feeble hand, with a look of pleasure in her wan face. "It seems as if I was lying on the softest feathers, and all well again. Everything is so very easy, and I haven't any pain."
"You are much better, dear, and we are very glad;" but Mrs. Dering bent her head as she spoke, that no one might see the tremble of her lips, for well she knew, without any word or glance at her son-in-law's face, that the sufferer was passing into the sunlight of God's rest and love, and that the passing away of pain was because His hand had already touched her.
But to the girls it seemed different. To them, the clear, bright eyes, the quiet, easy breathing, and restful feeling, meant better for life, and they had a joyful jubilant time over it down stairs. They gathered the loveliest flowers in bloom, and took them up stairs, and Ernestine smiled brightly and even held them for a few moments in her weak hands, keeping a pure, pale, creamy bud, when they put the rest in water.
During the day Dr. Barnett brought some mail from the office, among which was a letter from Ralph for Kat, and a strange one from New York for Kittie, which proved to be from Mr. Murray.
"How funny!" she said, with a pleased smile.
"What is he writing to you for?" inquired Kat, sharing the general interest and curiosity to such an extent that she forgot her own letter. "Is Pansy sick?"
"No; he only says how she is, and how she wishes for me every day, and wants me to write a letter, all to herself," answered Kittie, too busy running her eyes over the few lines, with the signature