devote to Amy, especially when her message sounded so ungracious. Mr. Farquhar ran after Anne to ask if she did not think Amy would like him to go up; but Anne, having been especially told by her young lady she could not see him, held firm to her opinion, that "Miss Amy would be best alone." In truth Anne had been extremely frightened. When first she went into the room she had not observed Amy particularly, and she stood up as usual, in reply to the summons, “It is quite dressing-time, Miss Farquhar;" but when Anne caught sight of her countenance in the glass, and remarked her pale cheeks and compressed lips, she could not repress an exclamation of alarm. Amy turned to try and speak to her, but the effort was too much, and she fainted away on the floor at Anne's feet. Amy had never fainted before in her life, and was long before she came to herself, and then so exhausted she could only lie on the sofa, where Anne had lifted her, passive and motionless. Anne chafed her hands with Eau de Cologne, and bathed her forehead with cold water, warmed her feet, and did everything she could think of for her comfort, till at last Amy was touched by the evident anxiety poor Anne was in for her, and burst into a flood of tears, which gave her great relief, although they increased the alarm of her faithful attendant considerably. "I am very foolish, Anne," she said at length; "but you must go down now, and tell Mrs. Warenne I cannot come. Please do not let any one come to me; I should be ashamed for them to see me so weak, and I shall be better to-morrow I have no doubt. I will be quite still till you come back Anne," she added, seeing her look doubtful as to the propriety of leaving her patient alone. "You need not be afraid for me; I will tell you what is the matter when you come back.” Anne went, as we have already seen, to the drawing-room, and then descended hastily to the housekeeper's-room to get some hot coffee, which she thought would be the most likely thing for Amy to take. Here she found all in confusion. Ruth's nurse was sitting lamenting in an arm-chair, and the housekeeper standing over her was comforting and condoling by to turns. "Miss Ruth going to be married, only think! but then, how could Mr. Farquhar go and take her to those savage Indians? Oh dear, dear! what should she do without Miss Ruth? what would everybody do? oh dear, dear!" "Where are they going to?" said Anne, much dismayed. "Oh, to Z—, I believe,” replied the housekeeper, "that far-away corner of the world; it's all very good, to be sure, going to preach to the poor ignorant natives there; but it's a sad wedding with such a parting after; and only one month!" Anne heard no more, but hastened back to her young lady, who was by this time quite composed and calm. "I will not be so foolish again, Anne," she said, with a kind of attempt at a smile; "I must have frightened you very much, I am afraid." "I have heard, Miss Amy, downstairs, what it is; I am very sorry for you, I am sure;" and Anne's eyes were very full as she spoke. She Amy's heart warmed at the sympathetic glance; she was very short of sympathy just then she felt, and her courage rose could, she would, bear all bravely she thought; but just now the body was too weak to respond to the exertions of the mind, and she was compelled to go to bed. In the night came the great struggle with herself. Happy those who do not know what is the sensation of first waking to the recollection of some great trouble, some heavy trial fallen upon us since our last waking, which will prevent our ever waking as we did then again, at least we think so. Amy woke that night to such a struggle; but she fought with herself and conquered, not in her own strength, but in that which she had lately learned to "call for by diligent prayer." |