The morning succeeding the events last recorded, at an early hour, Mrs. Colman was on her way to the dwelling of the now destitute and infirm Walter Malcolm. She had new motives for the advancement of her charitable purposes, and her interest in the sick girl had deepened since she knew her to be the one whose infant steps her own husband had guided. Hastening up the stairs she knocked at the door, which was soon opened by Maggie, who looked weary enough with the fatigue of the past night. The young girl had been very restless, she said, and she believed that the fever was rapidly progressing. “But is she not a beautiful creature?” remarked Maggie to her mistress, as she bent over the couch and parted the rich curls from the fevered brow, “ah, ma’am, I have nursed many a one before this in sickness—but never a person whose appearance so won upon me as hers has.”

Alice Colman did not wonder at the observation—but as she now glanced round the room she met the gaze of Julie’s father, and her morning salutation to him was full of gentleness and sympathy.

Through the whole of that day Mrs. Colman maintained her station in the chamber of sickness and poverty. The physician came at the appointed hour, and gave it as his opinion that Julie was growing rapidly worse and that there were even doubts whether in any case her life would be spared. Oh! how the thought of her dying affected Mrs. Colman.

“Let every thing be done that may be of benefit to her,” she said anxiously to the doctor, “spare no expense whatever if you think you can by any means preserve her from the grasp of death. I will be answerable for whatever remuneration you may require.”

And not even content with his advice, she sent for her own family physician determined to try all the means she could for the preservation of the life of her husband’s niece. She noticed that Walter Malcolm looked very pale all day, but attributed it to anxiety for his daughter. He seemed too languid to converse—but once, as she handed him a glass of water, he said—“Lady, Heaven will reward your kindness to the suffering.”

That evening when Alice Colman returned home, her husband surprised her with the intelligence that Walter Malcolm was aware of her relationship to him. Before she went there in the morning, Mr. Colman had advised her on no account to allow his brother to suspect from whom he received the needful aid, for he feared that Walter still entertained against him the old feeling of hatred, and that it would awaken unpleasant emotions in his heart if he knew that the brother he had deserted was now destined to be his chief reliance. But the caution to his wife was unnecessary. Walter Malcolm had made inquiries of Maggie concerning the family to whom he was indebted, and from their minuteness Harry Colman was confident that he had been recognised. And that his brother had not forgotten his former aversion to him he deemed evident from the fact that he had said nothing of his discovery, during the day, to Mrs. Colman. The latter however thought differently. Julie’s father had spoken his thanks for that draught of water too earnestly for her to join in her husband’s belief, and she expressed her conviction that he repented his past conduct, and that he merely wanted courage to confess his penitence.

But day after day passed on, and yet there was no allusion to the subject on the part of Walter Malcolm. Meanwhile his daughter had passed the crisis of the fever and was declared convalescent. If the appearance of Julie Malcolm in the hour of delirium had attracted the fancy of Alice Colman and her nurse, how much more were they drawn toward her when her mind was freed from the chains that bound it—for gentle and loving-hearted, her grateful spirit manifested itself in various little touching ways toward those who had watched over her during her dangerous illness. When she grew stronger and was able to enter into conversation, a perfect understanding arose between Mrs. Colman and herself that they were always to be friends. Alice Colman felt that she already loved Julie dearly—and the latter was not slow in returning the affection of one whose timely succor had saved her life. Still the young girl suspected not that they were kindred by law as in heart.

It was soon settled that when Julie became entirely recovered, she should undertake the duties of governess to Mrs. Colman’s children, and this new office was to afford her the means of support. A more suitable residence had been sought by Alice Colman for Julie and her father, and they were to remove into it as soon as the former had gained sufficient strength to bear the fatigue. Two more weeks elapsed ere this last project was effected—and they were then comfortably settled in their new abode.

And still there was no sign from Walter Malcolm that he knew of his brother’s agency in the change wrought in his affairs. He was now generally reserved when Mrs. Colman was near, and his countenance often wore a deep shade of gloom.

——