Ellie was up betimes next morning, and at her uncle's
bedside.

He had slumbered heavily throughout the night, and
the malady seemed in that time to have gathered new
strength. His cheek was burning, and his eye had that
fitful wandering expression which denotes the mastery of
disease over the mental as well as the physical part of
man's system. Ellie felt more than ever that sinking of
the heart which is worse than a thousand tears; and it
was a hard struggle to trust implicitly in that Being to
whom she had just offered her prayer on her bended
knees.

She felt more than ever her almost powerless condition,
and with one hand upon the sick man's pillow, she leaned
over him and cried silently for some moments. He
opened his eyes at last, and with a sort of dim consciousness
that it was the real Ellie, and not the angel of his
dreams, tried to smile; but it was a sickly attempt, and
he soon sank back with a low sigh of pain.

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Ellie carefully arranged the cover, and suppressing her
tears, betook herself to kindling the two or three bits of
wood which she had reserved. She then waked and
assisted Charley in dressing, and made some tea for him.

The first thing to be done was to get the money for
the collar, as more medicine would be wanted, and to ask
the doctor to come again; this the child determined to
do at once. She instructed Charley, who was now quite
subdued, and anxious to remain at home, and if her uncle
stirred to get anything he wanted—tea or water, or anything—
and then she put on her old bonnet, wrapped up
the collar, and set forth.

Dr. Jots gave a surly assent to her request that he
would call at once, as her uncle was much worse; and
then she set forward again, through the bitter sunrise, on
her way.

Suddenly, in passing the office of the newspaper which
her uncle was accustomed to serve to subscribers, she
remembered that they ought to know of his sickness; and
accordingly she went in and said that he was ill. The
information was received by the greasy looking clerk with
as many grumblings as had fallen to her lot in the case
of Dr. Jots. It had occurred to Ellie to ask an advance
upon her uncle's weekly pay, but the rude manner of the
clerk, added to the fact, which she now remembered, that
her uncle had stated his indebtedness for a week in
advance, paralyzed the child's tongue, and she could not
find the words to prefer her request.

She went out endeavoring to hide her tears, and again
set forward through the chill sunrise on her way.

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She arrived at the “Seamstress' Union,” and almost
burst into tears at the disappointment which met her. It
was closed: and she suddenly remembered that this was
one of the two days in the week when Mrs. Brown closed
her shop, and went out to carry work to her “hands,”
and give them instructions.

It was a bitter disappointment, and the child sat down
on the stone before the door and cried. Early wayfarers
passed her and looked curiously at her, and went on in
silence;—or a paper carrier uttered a good natured “hallo,
young 'un,” and then hurried on; or baker boys in fast-driving
carts, asked her the “time o' day for breakfast;”—
still the child's tears flowed, and she seemed oblivious of
all around her, gazing at the cruel door which had shut
out with its iron clasp her only hope.

She sat thus on the cold stone for a long time, trying to
think what she should do. Mrs. Brown would not return
until evening—but evening would find them destitute, and
she could not leave her uncle again. What could she
do—oh! what could she do!

Suddenly her eye fell upon the package containing the
collar, and she remembered that it was for a lady whom
she had often done such things for. She would go to her,
and tell her why she came, and get the money, and afterwards
explain to good Mrs. Brown, who could not surely
blame her. Ellie rose at once, and wrapping her cold
hands in her apron, took her way towards the residence of
Miss Incledon, who lived at the house of her aunt.

She knocked timidly, and told the well-fed servant, who

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was coming out with a rug upon his arm and a broom in
his hand, that she wanted to see Miss Silvia.

Very good, the man said, he knew she couldn't, being
as Miss Silvia wasn't up yet—but he 'd send. Telegraphing
accordingly to a chambermaid, who was going up
stairs, he stated the child's request, and then returned to
his work singing, as contented and well-fed domestics will.

The maid returned in ten minutes with a message from
her mistress that the child was to come in. She would be
down soon “to practice,” and would see her.

Ellie went into the parlor, where a good blazing fire
had just been kindled, and sat down timidly upon a cricket,
holding her hands to the blaze. They were bitter cold,
and she had not been near so fine a fire for a long time.
Having warmed herself, she looked around and scanned
the apartments of the room with forlorn curiosity.

It was a richly furnished apartment, with silk damask
curtains, a Brussels carpet, and massive rosewood furniture.
Everything indicated comfort, and Ellie could not
forbear comparing it with the poor room she had just left,
where her uncle lay, burnt up with fever, and without the
necessaries of life. But this thought did not make her
envious, and she banished it at once, folding her hands
and making up her mind to wait patiently.

Chancing to look around after a few moments, Ellie's
eyes lit upon a yellow kid glove, which lay upon the floor
by the sofa, within a foot or two of her; and she reached
over and picked it up. Just within the wrist-band of the
glove, which was evidently a man's, was visible in the

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

broken letters of a tin copying card—and marked crosswise
as if in careless sport—the name “A. Fantish.”

Ellie was still looking absently at the glove, when a
light step behind her attracted her attention, and turning
round she saw the young lady she had come to see. Miss
Incledon was about twenty-two, had magnificent dark hair
and eyes, and wore a handsome morning dress, which set
off her superb figure to great advantage. Her face was
beautiful and animated, but a latent excitability in the
dark eyes seemed to indicate a quick temper, not entirely
under its mistress's control.

“Oh! it is you, child, is it?—the little sewing girl. I
have not forgotten you,” said Miss Incledon, “do you
wish to—”

Suddenly seeing the glove in the child's hands, she
stopped and colored.

“What—where—did you get that?” she said taking it.

“I picked it up from the floor, ma'am,” said Ellie, who
had risen and was standing respectfully back from the fire.

“From the floor!—oh, yes—he must have dropped it.
That is—no matter.”

And Miss Incledon, with a careless air, thrust the glove
into her reticule.

“Did you want to see me?” she said, going to the piano,
opening it, and running her hand over the keys.

“Yes ma'am, I brought your collar.”

“My collar?”

“I was working it for Mrs. Brown, you know, ma'am.”

“Oh, yes—my thread lace—let me see.”

Ellie unrolled and handed it to the young lady.

p506-041

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

“Very pretty.”

Ellie smiled with the gentle ingenuous air of a child
who is praised. The young lady looked at it for some
moments, placed it around her white throat, and then
laying it down on the piano, said as she ran her hand
over the keys,

“Sit down, and warm yourself.”

Ellie blushed and hesitated.

“If you please, ma'am,” she faltered, with a threatened
tear; “my uncle is sick, and we have no money—and—”

“You want me to pay for this? Oh, certainly! I
might have known you came for—”

As she spoke, the door opened, and the servant putting
his head in, announced respectfully, “Mr. Ralph, ma'am.”

A quick color came to the young lady's face, and the
hand which she had moved toward her pocket, stopped.
Before she could speak farther, the door opened wide,
and a gentleman came in.