presence was far less obnoxious to me than that of Abbot,
for instance, would have been), I scrutinized the face of the
gentleman. I knew him; it was Mr. Lloyd, an apothecary,
sometimes called in by Mrs. Reed when the servants were
ailing: for herself and the children she employed a physician.

"Well, who am I" he asked.

I pronounced his name, offering him at the same time my
hand: he took it, smiling, and saying, "We shall do very
well by-and-by." Then he laid me down, and addressing
Bessie, charged her to be very careful that I was not disturbed
during the night. Having given some further directions, and
intimated that he should call again the next day, he departed,
to my grief: I felt so sheltered and befriended while he sat
in the chair near my pillow; and as he closed the door after
him, all the room darkened and my heart again sank: in-
expressible sadness weighed it down.

"Do you feel as if you should sleep, Miss?" asked Bessie,
rather softly.

Scarcely dared I answer her, for I feared the next sentence
might be rough. "I will try."

"Would you like to drink, or could you eat anything?"

"No, thank you, Bessie."

"Then I think I shall go to bed, for it is past twelve o'clock;
but you may call me if you want anything in the night."

Wonderful civility this! It emboldened me to ask a
question.

" Bessie, what is the matter with me? Am I ill?"

"You fell sick, I suppose, in the red-room, with crying;
you'll be better soon, no doubt."

Bessie went into the housemaid's apartment which was
near. I heard her say, --

" Sarah, come and sleep with me in the nursery; I daren't
for my life be alone with that poor child to-night; she might
die; it's such a strange thing she should have that fit: I
wonder if she saw anything. Missis was rather too hard."

Sarah came back with her; they both went to bed; they
were whispering together for half an hour before they fell
asleep. I caught scraps of their conversation, from which
I was able only too distinctly to infer the main subject dis-
cussed.

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