Days passed, and Dessie did not go near the house. Baby Hugh was dangerously ill-so ill that faint hopes were entertained of his recovery. Mr. Fitzroy was soon satisfied as to the absence of infection, and Edith was permitted to share in the nursing. But Dessie shrank from the thought of going near those whom she had, through her carelessness, so deeply injured.

For a day or

Anne was no longer in the house. two Dessie heard that she was always crying, and that she was a greater trouble than help. Then she was sent home for a month's holiday, a trained nurse taking her place-no small comfort to Ella. Again there was a feeling of relief in Dessie's mind. She counted it more than ever out of her power to attempt to be released from her promise. She had. not Anne's home address; and "of course "she could not ask Cecil or Ella for it at such a time; and she was quite sure that if she had it, writing would bring no result. Besides, things had gone so far that a confession, now trebly difficult, would be at the same time objectless, so far as the child was concerned. So, at least, Dessie decided.

Dessie's affection for Baby was so well known that no one was surprised to see her unwontedly quiet and grave, though many were perplexed at her avoidance of the subject of his illness, and her extreme reluctance to go to the house. The family theory of explanation was that Dessie dreaded being betrayed into tears, and could not trust her own. powers of self-command.

Preparations for her journey still went on, and

E

were somewhat hurried, since her escort, Mrs. Woodford, had decided to start three or four days earlier than was at first anticipated. Dessie made the most of what had to be done, and appeared to have no leisure for aught else.

CHAPTER IX.

FEARS AND HOPES.

I

Of

"DESSIE," said Mrs. Fitzroy, on the morning of the last day before Decima's journey, "I really must insist on your going to see Ella this afternoon. cannot imagine why you have not been before. course you are busy; but surely you could spare half an hour. After all Ella's kindness to you, it is worse than thoughtless to neglect her at such a time." "I did go a day or two ago, mamma; but she could not see me."

"You chose the very time when I warned you that she would be lying down; and you ought to have gone again. If you do not care enough for Baby to do so for his sake, you ought at least to show common consideration for poor dear Ella," Mrs. Fitzroy said, with unwonted warmth. "I really do not understand you, Dessie. You make such professions of caring for Ella at ordinary times, and yet now she is in this terrible trouble you don't care to go near her or to ask her how she is. It seems to me quite heartless, and I can see that both she and Cecil are hurt at the way in which you have behaved."

"I didn't suppose she would care, mamma.” "Then you ought to have supposed it. Of course, I do not wish you to tease Ella with chatter, when she is not fit for it. But to keep altogether out of her way is another matter. Mind, Dessie, I quite insist on your going after luncheon. I shall not be there myself before the evening, but you are not to wait for me."

Mrs. Fitzroy did not often speak in so authoritative a manner, and Decima was proportionately impressed. Luncheon over, she desired still to defer the evil moment as long as possible, and went to her packing. But at half-past three Mrs. Fitzroy came to her room with reminders, and at four o'clock Dessie left the house. Her pace grew slower and slower as she approached her brother's, and she stood full three minutes outside the door before she could summon courage to ring the bell.

"How is Master Hugh?" she asked abruptly, of the servant.

He has been much

"Very very ill, Miss Dessie. worse the last hour-as bad as could be. I hoped it was the doctor, for he's been sent for, and he was out."

"Not really worse?" said Dessie.

"I'm afraid so, indeed, Miss Dessie. The convulsions came on again terrible, and Nurse thought almost he'd die before the doctor could be here. Poor dear little lamb!" and the girl put her handkerchief to her eyes. "I just couldn't bear to stay in the room and see him; and master had to go out once, he was that upset.

But missis, she never

gives in for a moment. It's wonderful to look at her, and think of what she's gone through."

All at once it flashed vividly into Dessie's mind. how small was the likelihood that she would ever again, after that day, see her little nephew on earth. She had not realised the truth before; she had put it from her, had refused to face it, had occupied her mind with other things. Now a picture rose before her of Hugh in health; of Hugh's blue eyes and curly hair, of his little clinging hands and broken chatter and springing movements; and a great rush of love for him filled her heart. The dread of meet

ing Ella was suddenly lost in the stronger desire to be with the child once more.

"Shall I let my mistress know that you are here, Miss?" asked the girl.

"No; there's no need. I'll go upstairs. They will let me in," said Dessie impulsively, not pausing to think whether in such a moment she might not be in the way. "Which room?"

"The day-nursery, Miss." And Dessie went swiftly thither. She opened the door, entered, and

there paused.

It was a pretty room-light and airy, fitted up by loving hands for the little household darling. Bright pictures adorned the walls, and one or two toys lay in a corner. Hugh's crib had been moved out of the night-nursery into the more cheerful room, and on the crib lay little Hugh, wrapped loosely in flannel, changed, white, and death-like. The convulsions had temporarily ceased, though the parted lips and tiny hands were twitching still. Ella knelt