at the garden, and then went back to his work, turning round every now and then to see how his little charge was getting on. He always saw her eyes wide open; sometimes full of tears, which stole down her cheeks unheeded-sometimes gazing away intently at the blue sky, and the fleecy white clouds which were passing over it.

Marian came to see her, and bring her a little note from Mrs. Cleve; and just before dinner there was a very noisy knock at the door, and Harry burst in, with his hands full of wild dog-roses and honeysuckle. "There!" he said, putting them all into Edith's lap, "those are for you."

Edith understood all the rough boyish sympathy which the flowers were meant to convey, and took them gratefully, saying "they were beautiful, and so sweet." Harry looked pleased, and tried to say something more; but the sight of Edith's sorrow-stricken face was too much for him; and, dashing his hand across his eyes, he left the room as noisily as he had entered it.

Mrs. Stanleigh came at dinner-time to know how she was.

“I'm quite well; but I'm so tired-oh, so tired!" was the only answer which the little girl could make.

"I know you are, dear," said Mrs. Stanleigh, smoothing Edith's hair, as she spoke, with her hand.

"You shall stay here quietly, and I will send your dinner in to you."

"O no!" said Edith; but, as she said it, Basil looked up at her, and that look made her silent— and more than that, for it made her eat the dinner when it came.

In the afternoon Basil read to her; and then she fell asleep again, but was awakened at five o'clock by the sound of wheels stopping at the hall-door. In another moment, Aunt Geraldine was by her side, clasping her in her arms, crying over her, and calling her "her own dear child! her brother's little daughter!"

"Aunt Geraldine-O, I'm so glad you've come ! said Edith, leaning against her, and looking up in her face to make quite sure that it really was her aunt.

"My darling, I would have come quicker had it been possible. My little Edith-my poor little child!"

"He's never coming back any more! He's left me all alone!" sobbed Edith, still holding her aunt's hand, and clinging to her.

"Not alone, my dear-not alone. Uncle Edwin says you must be our little daughter now, and Willie's own sister. Barrington must be your home from henceforth. As soon as you can travel we will go home together, and you shall never leave me

again. Look up, darling! look up! and tell me that my brother's little girl will be mine now. 0 Edith! I loved him too-loved him so much-and you are all that is left to me of him."

"Yes," said Edith, slowly; "you loved him, you knew how he looked, and what he used to say; and you smile like him sometimes. Yes; I will go with you, and "—but here she threw herself into Lady Barrington's arms, crying out, in passionate grief, "Aunt Geraldine-O, if I could but have him back-if I could but have him back!"

The tears streamed down Lady Barrington's beautiful face, as she clasped the lonely little girl to her heart, saying, "Edith, my darling, be comforted; don't, don't cry like that.. O Edmund, Edmund!"

328

CHAPTER V.

IS THE LIFE-WORK OVER?

"So others shall

Take patience, labour, to their heart and hand,
From thy hand and thy heart and thy brave cheer,
And God's grace fructify through thee to all.
The least flower, with a brimming cup may stand
And share its dewdrop with another near."

MRS. BARRETT BROWNING.

AND so it was settled that Edith was to leave her home at Dornton, and henceforth to live with her uncle and aunt at Barrington.

The little girl herself did not feel as if she much minded where she went, or what became of her. The future seemed a blank to her. There was nothing to look forward to now. When she thought about it all, there was rest in the feeling that she was going to be with her aunt and Willie, who had known and loved her father; but, on the other hand, everybody at Dornton was very kind to her, and the thought of parting from Dr. and Mrs. Stanleigh, Basil, Marian, Tottie, and Mrs. Cleve, gave her pain. Her great sorrow, however, so completely absorbed every other feeling that she hardly realized what was being

arranged for her; and, as one in a dream, she collected her books and everything that belonged to her, and saw them packed up.

Lady Barrington stayed at Dornton for a week, and then, as she said it was impossible for her to be away from home any longer, she arranged to go to Barrington on the following Wednesday.

Mr. Sylvester and Laura came to say good-bye to Edith a day or two before they went away.

Laura's sunny face was very sad when she saw her, and the tears filled her eyes as she kissed her; but all she could say was, "Edith, I'm so sorry. I know how I should feel if it was my papa; and it must be just the same to you."

Mr. Sylvester was very gentle, and very kind; he told Edith that he was very sorry she was going away; and then, turning to Lady Barrington, he said he hoped that she would let his little friend come and stay with Laura sometimes; that it would be a great pleasure to his daughter, and that Edith would see all her old friends. Lady Barrington said that she was sure Edith would like it, and that she should be very glad for her to have such a pleasure; and, having gained this promise, they went away.

On the Tuesday evening before Edith left Dornton, when the little trunk which contained all her possessions was packed and corded, Basil asked her to come with him to say good-bye to Mrs. Cleve.