a cold Bianca?" Said her father anxiously. "A slight one, father." “How did you catch it? you must take great care of yourself, now my child." And he put his hand out to her; she put her's in it, and came and sat quietly beside him on a low stool at his feet. Presently she said, "Father shall I read to you?" "Yes, do. Take something warm before you go to bed tonight." "Yes, father; what shall I read? The 14th chapter of John?" He nodded, and she opened the book. In her soft yet rich tones she read, “Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. Ye believe in God, believe also in me." When she had finished the chapter, she closed the book slowly. They then knelt down and prayed. “Now Bianca, go to bed." He rang the bell. "Martha get Miss Bianca something warm, she has got a bad cold." "No wonder she has with—" Bianca interrupted her; "come away Martha" Outside the dining room; "Martha"—said she, "you must not tell father where I was this morning." "Very well, Miss Bianca." Martha brought her young mistress a cup of hot spiced wine. Bianca drank it, then she went upstairs. She went towards the door of her sister’s room, she turned the lock slowly and entered. She half expected to see Inez there in her white robe lying quiet and pale in her coffin, with her arms across her breast, and her dark, soft hair framing her peaceful, beautiful face, and her lips half-open in a calm, gentle, and happy smile. She had seen her thus last night. Bianca knelt beside the bed and prayed. She came out half an hour afterwards; a stop was mounting the stairs; she passed quickly and silently to her own room. She heard the steps stop before the door. Would he go in? No. He went to his own bedroom.
Next morning when Bianca awoke, she involuntarily turned her face towards the bed where Inez used to sleep before her illness. She turned her head away presently with a sigh; she got up and kneeling at the foot of the bed, wept, with her head buried in the counterpane. She did not pray;—Inez come back;—that was her cry, wrung from her heart; by and by the tears dropped slower; silo was thinking. "How happy she is!" thought she, "in that garden full of flowers, as she said; how
