prospects for life."

"So you, her own daughter, have brought this on by cruel taunts and reproaches!" the physician said in a tone of mingled contempt and indignation. "I hope you feel that the least you can do now is to take the best possible care of her."

"How can I?" sobbed Virginia. "I've no money to pay a nurse or buy comforts for mother, and I know nothing about nursing or cooking for sick or well. I wasn't brought up to work."

A boy now came to the door with a message from the hackman; "he couldn't stay any longer if the lady wasn't going to the steamer, and he wanted his pay."

Virginia opened a small satchel that had dropped from her mother's hand, found her purse, paid the man his dues, and counting the remainder told the doctor there was enough to provide what would be needed for the patient until other relatives could be summoned, and that should be done at once by telegrams to be paid by the recipients.

The doctor approved, and kindly offered to attend to sending the messages for her.

CHAPTER IV.

"O gloriously upon the deep
The gallant vessel rides,
And she is mistress of the winds,
And mistress of the tides."
—Miss Landon.

Meanwhile Edward had taken his sister on board the steamer, and she, greatly exhausted by grief, anxiety, and fatigue, had at once retired to her berth.

Edward also was weary and in need of sleep, so presently went to his state-room, leaving Ben to attend to the luggage and watch for Mrs. Conly's arrival.

Faithful Ben waited patiently about for a couple of hours, then began to grow uneasy lest Mrs. Conly should not arrive in season. Another hour passed, and he reluctantly roused his young master to ask what could be done.

"What's wanted?" Edward asked, waked by Ben's loud rap on the state-room door.

"Miss Louise she hasn't come yet, Marse Ed'ard," he said, "and de steamah'll be startin' fo' long. I don' know whar to go to look her up, so please excuse me for rousin' ye, sah."

"Hasn't come yet, do you say, Ben? and the vessel about to sail?" exclaimed Edward in dismay, springing from his berth to open the door. "Why, yes," looking at his watch, "there's barely half an hour left, and I don't see what we can do."

"No time now fo' me to go an' hunt up Miss Louise, Marse Ed'ard? Ise berry sorry, sah, dat I didn't come soonah to ax you 'bout it, but I didn't like to 'sturb you," said Ben, looking much distressed.

"Never mind, Ben," Edward answered kindly, "you couldn't have gone for her, because she gave me no address, and I have not the least idea where to send for her."

"Den what am to be done, sah?"

"We will have to sail without her. I could not think of asking my sister to wait for the next steamer," Edward said, more as if thinking aloud than talking to Ben.

The latter bowed respectfully and withdrew, but only to come hurrying back the next moment with a telegram from Virginia.

"Mother taken suddenly ill. Remains with me. Send luggage to No. —— street."

This news of his aunt's illness caused Edward regret not wholly unmingled with satisfaction in the thought of being spared her companionship on the voyage and afterward.

He read the message aloud to Ben. "You see it would have done no good if we could have gone for her," he remarked. "But go, make haste to have the baggage sent ashore to the address given here."

Elsie's state-room adjoined her brother's. She too had been roused by Ben's knock and overheard a part of what passed between him and his young master. Dinah also was listening.

"What dat dey say, Miss Elsie?" she queried in a startled tone, "Miss Louise sick?"

"I think that was what Master Edward said; but go to his door, Dinah, and ask."

Edward came himself with his answer and bringing a second telegram; this time from their grandfather, saying the children were decidedly better, all the rest of the family well.

"Oh, what good news!" exclaimed Elsie. "But poor Aunt Louise! I wish we knew her exact condition. Do you not think it must have been a sudden seizure?"

"Yes, of either illness or desire to remain behind. Don't let it worry you, sister dear. You have already quite enough of anxiety to endure."

"No," she said, with a sweet, patient smile, "I am trying not to be anxious or troubled about anything, but to obey the sweet command, 'casting all your care upon Him.'"

"'For He careth for you,'" added Edward, completing the quotation. "It is, as you say, a sweet command, most restful to those who obey it. Have you slept?"

"Yes, I have had a long and very refreshing nap; still I have not recovered from my fatigue, and shall not leave my state-room for some time yet."

"Let me send in your supper," he said. "I hope it will refresh you still more, and that after it you may feel equal to a turn on deck with me. It will be moonlight, and if you wrap up well you will not find the air more than bracingly keen."

"Thank you," she said. "It is altogether likely I shall find the exercise of a short promenade rather restful than otherwise, after being so long cramped up in the cars. You are a dear, good brother to me, Ned," she added, laying her hand affectionately on his arm as he sat on the edge of the berth close by her side. "But how strange it seems that we two are starting off on this long voyage alone!"

"I'm so proud to be trusted to take care of you, Elsie," he returned, bending over her and tenderly smoothing her luxuriant hair. "I used to look up to you years ago, but now——"

"You look down on me?" she interrupted sportively. "No great feat, Master Ned, while I lie here."

"Nor when we stand side by side," he returned in the same tone, 'seeing I have grown to be a full head taller than you. But truth compels me to acknowledge that I am your superior in nothing else except physical strength."

"You might add knowledge of the world, you have had to rely on your own judgment so much oftener than I who have so seldom left mamma's side. Dear, dear mamma! Oh, Ned, how long will it be before I see her again?"

She wept as she spoke, and Edward felt for the moment strongly inclined to join her. But instead he tried to cheer her.

"We will hope Cousin Arthur may prescribe a sea voyage for grandpa and the children before long, and then we shall have the whole family joining us in Italy."

"How delightful that would be, Ned!" she said, smiling through her tears.

"And do you know," he went on gayly, "it is strongly impressed upon me that we shall find Lester convalescent, and by good nursing and our cheering companionship so help it on that we shall have him a well man in a few weeks."

"Ah, if it might be so!" she sighed. "'But He doeth all things well,' and oh how precious are His promises! 'As thy days thy strength shall be.' 'I will never leave thee nor forsake thee.' 'When thou passest through the waters I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flames kindle upon thee.' And then that glorious assurance, 'We know that all things work together for good to them that love God.' Oh, Ned, our one great need is more and stronger faith!"

"Yes, the faith which worketh by love! Let me read you that eighth chapter of Romans. I do not know what could be more comforting," he said, taking a small Testament from his pocket.

"Thank you," she said when he had finished. "Ah, what could be sweeter than those concluding verses! 'For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord!'"