"Yes; I thought of course you knew; he left the very day the doctor pronounced you out of danger."

"Did you know he thought of going?"

"No, we were greatly surprised; I cannot think why he left so abruptly."

"Perhaps he was afraid of Mrs. Le Grande. He knows how fascinating she can be when she chooses."

"I do not think she had anything to do with it. She was perfectly harmless when he left, in the delirium of fever, with two physicians in attendance."

I was not convinced by Mrs. Flaxman's words, but said no more on the subject.

My strength rapidly returned once I had got in the open air. Thomas always found it perfectly convenient now to take me for a drive, even at most unseasonable hours. His gardening was pressing heavily upon him, and no doubt it was hard for him to trust the care of flower and vegetable beds to other hands; but of the two he preferred to trust them rather than me, to strangers.

We took long drives over hill and valley—for the most part taking the road that skirted the seashore. Silently I would watch the white sails disappearing beyond the eastern horizon, wishing that I could follow them to my guardian's side. I missed the delightful hours I used to spend in his study listening to his conversation, so different from that of any human being I ever knew. He lived so far above the range of little minds, the trivialities of everyday life, social gossip, and the like, seemed to shrink from his presence. One always felt the touch of noble thoughts, and the longing for high endeavor where he was. I lived over again in these long, quiet drives, with the silent Thomas, those last few months, when, with my innocent child's heart, I sunned myself in his presence, unconscious of the rare charm and fascination that drew me to him.

But as I grew stronger I turned from the past and its memories, bitter-sweet, and set myself resolutely to the duty of living my life well, independently of its secret unrest and pain. I knew that many before me, multitudes after me, would be called to endure a like discipline, and the world, no doubt, is the richer in what it holds as imperishable because of the compensation suffering brings; for if we take with a docile mind the discipline God gives, there will always be compensation. One day, when I had come back strengthened from a long drive along the seashore, a very pleasant surprise awaited me. Mrs. Flaxman had received letters from Mr. Winthrop which, to my surprise, she did not share with me. But she handed me a check for two hundred dollars, which I was to distribute among my poor friends. That money I believe helped to change the destinies of several lives: for I tried to lay it out in a way that would help some to improve their chances to make life a success.

June, with its flowers and perfumes, came at last; and in the early morning, when I used to ramble through the stretches of flowers and shrubbery, and under the trees, tremulous with bird song, I wondered how the owner of all this beauty could willingly banish himself from it. Thomas permitted me to gather flowers at will—a favor I used to the utmost, among others sending Mrs. Le Grande a daily remembrance from Oaklands, in the shape of a bouquet of the choicest blossoms.