"She has had some shock; that is it," he said. "Be patient, grandma. She will come to herself."
It was strange how his heart went out to the girl, who lay so silently on the pillow all day, looking up at him with dark, inscrutable eyes, like an infant's in their wondering expression.
In a week she seemed stronger. She could sit up in an easy-chair. She even talked a little, but it was just about things that she saw in the room—books, pictures, flowers. She would say, softly:
"How sweet! How pretty!"
At last she was strong enough to walk about the room.
"Grandma, I think she would like it better in the parlor," said Chester, one day. He took her hand and led her into a pretty, cozy apartment.
[CHAPTER L.]
"SHE WAS MY MOTHER."
"Sweet face, sweet eyes, and gleaming
Sun-gifted, mingling hair;
Lips like two rosebuds dreaming
In June's fruit-scented air."