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chanced, was at that time greatly preoccupied about some school-prize, for which he was competing. The news had to be told twice before it took proper hold of his attention; and even then he dwelt on it but momently.
    »Polly going? What a pity! Dear little Mousie, I shall be sorry to lose her: she must come to us again, mama.«
    And hastily swallowing his tea, he took a candle and a small table to himself and his books, and was soon buried in study.
    »Little Mousie« crept to his side, and lay down on the carpet at his feet, her face to the floor; mute and motionless she kept that post and position till bed-time. Once I saw Graham – wholly unconscious of her proximity – push her with his restless foot. She receded an inch or two. A minute after one little hand stole out from beneath her face, to which it had been pressed, and softly caressed the heedless foot. When summoned by her nurse she rose and departed very obediently, having bid us all a subdued good-night.
    I will not say that I dreaded going to-bed, an hour later; yet I certainly went with an unquiet anticipation that I should find that child in no peaceful sleep. The forewarning of my instinct was but fulfilled, when I discovered her, all cold and vigilant, perched like a white bird on the outside of the bed. I scarcely knew how to accost her; she was not to be managed like another child. She, however, accosted me. As I closed the door, and put the light on the dressing-table, she turned to me with these words: –
    »I cannot –
cannot
sleep; and in this way I cannot –
cannot
live!«
    I asked what ailed her.
    »Dedful miz-er-y!« said she, with her piteous lisp. »Shall I call Mrs. Bretton?«
    »That is downright silly,« was her impatient reply; and, indeed, I well knew that if she had heard Mrs. Bretton's foot approach, she would have nestled quiet as a mouse under the bedclothes. While lavishing her eccentricities regardlessly before me – for whom she professed scarcely the semblance of affection – she never showed my godmother one glimpse of her inner self: for her, she was nothing but a docile, somewhat quaint little maiden. I examined her; her cheek was crimson; her dilated eye was both troubled and glowing, and painfully restless: in this state it was obvious she must not be left till morning. I guessed how the case stood.
    »Would you like to bid Graham good-night again?« I asked. »He is not gone to his room yet.«
    She at once stretched out her little arms to be lifted. Folding a shawl round her, I carried her back to the drawing-room. Graham was just coming out.
    »She cannot sleep without seeing and speaking to you once more,« I said. »She does not like the thought of leaving you.«
    »I've spoilt her,« said he, taking her from me with good humour, and kissing her little hot face and burning lips. »Polly, you care for me more than for papa, now –«
    »I
do
care for you, but you care nothing for me,« was her whisper.
    She was assured to the contrary, again kissed, restored to me, and I carried her away; but, alas! not soothed.
    When I thought she could listen to me I said –
    »Paulina, you should not grieve that Graham does not care for you so much as you care for him. It must be so.«
    Her lifted and questioning eyes asked why.
    »Because he is a boy and you are a girl; he is sixteen and you are only six; his nature is strong and gay, and yours is otherwise.«
    »But I love him so much; he
should
love me a little.«
    »He does. He is fond of you. You are his favourite.«
    »Am I Graham's favourite?«
    »Yes, more than any little child I know.«
    The assurance soothed her; she smiled in her anguish.
    »But,« I continued, »don't fret, and don't expect too much of him, or else he will feel you to be troublesome, and then it is all over.«
    »All over!« she echoed softly, »then I'll be good. I'll try to be good, Lucy Snowe.«
    I put her to bed.
    »Will he forgive me this one time?« she asked, as I undressed myself. I assured her