life, did at last begin to perceive the greatness of things she had counted little, and the littleness of things she had counted great.

But those around knew nothing of all this. They only saw that Dessie was for awhile a wonderfully high-spirited invalid, ready to joke to an unlimited extent, and seemingly depressed by nothing.

In truth, those earlier days, though days of greater actual suffering, were not the most trying part of the illness to Decima. The worst came later when she was counted convalescent; when she was able to dress and lie on the sofa; when Harry had returned to Paris, and Emmie had resumed her regular lessons; when Dessie was no longer so ill as to need constant attention, and when she was expected in some measure to employ herself, and to leave other people more free.

Then it was that Dessie's courage began to fail, and a certain tendency to irritability and depression set in. By this time she was a good deal pulled down, and though really better, she did not feel stronger. Moreover, she was still utterly unable to put her foot to the ground, and Dessie began secretly to suspect that a very long time must elapse before she would be able. The long confinement told upon her, and she had oftentimes a restless longing for one of her old rambles into the country, or through the castle grounds.

CHAPTER XXII.

IMPATIENCE.

"CRYING, Dessie?" said Emmeline, in surprise. "What is the matter, dear?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter if I am," grunted Dessie.

Emmeline stood looking at her cousin with a rather puzzled expression. Dessie was dressed and on a sofa in the drawing-room, whither she was wheeled usually for a part of the day. Bright sunshine poured in beneath the half-low venetians, and a tempting little tray, with tea and rolls, had just been placed by Emmie on a table close by Dessie. But Decima's "thank you" had a smothered sound, and Emmie, stealing round to the other side, caught sight of two unmistakable tears.

66

Everybody may cry sometimes, I suppose ?" said Dessie.

"I am afraid you have been lonely this afternoon," said Emmeline solicitously. "I did so want to stay in with you, but mamma said I must have my walk. She meant to be with you herself, but that tiresome Mrs. Hopkins kept her so long in the

other room.

She always has a string of confidences about nothing to make."

"It doesn't matter," repeated Dessie.

"I think it does matter. I can't bear you to be dull, Dessie; and this evening I have to go out again with papa and mamma," Emmie added regretfully. "I wish the Webbs had not come to Heidelberg just now, or that they made a little longer stay, so that one would have a choice of evenings to see them in. But perhaps if I ask

"No; you are not to ask to stay at home with Aunt Laura particularly wants you to go, for she said so. I'd rather be alone."

me.

"Not alone, Dessie; Miss Bruce is going to sit here."

"As if Miss Bruce was any good."

"Has anything happened to worry you?" asked Emmeline, steering judiciously clear of a discus

"Your foot isn't worse, is it? "

"No; and it isn't better."

I'm sick of being

"Don't you think it soon will be ? asked

Emmie encouragingly.

"No, I don't," said Dessie.

that Aunt Laura does not either."

"And I can see

"Oh, I think you must be mistaken, Dessie. Mamma said yesterday that she thought it was getting on."

"Well I don't think so," responded Dessie

tartly. "And I ought to know how it feels, I suppose. I don't think it is getting on at all; it aches just the same, and I can't stand on it the least bit. It ought to be better after all these weeks, but it is not, and I don't believe it ever will be."

"O Dessie!"

Emmie uttered those two words, then checked herself, and drew the little table nearer to the sofa. "The tea will be cold," she said pleasantly. "That will do you good."

"I don't want any tea,” Dessie avowed, but some little persuasion induced her to sit up and to manage a very fair meal. By this time she began to feel ashamed, and Emmie's rather tried look made an impression on her.

"You mustn't mind my being cross," she said. "I don't mean anything, Em, but it really is an awfully long time to be shut up within four walls, and I can't help having a grumble now and then. It does one good."

Emmie privately thought that it did not do other people good, but she only said—

"You were so very brave and bright at first.” “Oh, then-yes-that was different.

wasn't possible.

The pain

really was so bad that I had to be lively, or I should have cried half the day. A medium course That is different. But now it is only a stupid dull aching, and nobody expects me to mind it much; and I am living such a horribly creepy-crawly sort of existence, with nothing to do but to eat and yawn and read story-books, and not

One can't always

a notion how long it is to last. be patient; at least, I am sure I can't. One must have a spurt of complaining once in a way ; I should grow crazy without. But you ought to go and dress, Emmie. If you don't, you won't be in

time."

Emmie went away slowly, and found her mother alone.

"Dessie seems rather downhearted this afternoon," she said.

"Dessie has been a little too much alone to-day," said Mrs. Fitzroy. "It could not well be helped, but I am sorry for it. Miss Bruce has promised to be with her all the evening."

"I suppose I must not stay at home with Dessie, mamma ?"

"No; I wish you could, dear, for Dessie's sake, but it would not be right. The Webbs are such old friends, that they would be greatly disappointed if either of us did not go, and this is their only free evening. We may not be in their way again for years."

Mamma, do

be well?"

you think Dessie's foot will soon

"No-not soon. Why?"

"Dessie does not think it is any better."

"Any better than the day after the accident ?"

"Oh, not that, of course, mamma. She could not mean that. Any better than a little while ago, I suppose."

"I think it is better than a month ago, but the