She saw now why she had not been allowed to die according to her wish, even because her work was not yet accomplished. How willingly and with what pleasure had the children received what she had taught them regarding religion; how eagerly had they listened when she had explained the scriptures; with what different feelings did they now regard the sabbath as a day of holy rest, and prayer, and praise, instead of a day of weariness, dreaded and hated. Did she not remember how shocked she had been, when Amy said, that she liked all the days except sundays, and the others had expressed the same. And oh, how glad and thankful she felt when Amy not long since, one sunday afternoon had clasped her arms round her neck, and exclaimed that she liked Miss Leicester's sundays very much. All this she had been able to do through divine blessing upon her endeavors to benefit the children, and would she leave them when her work had only just begun? No, no, how wrong and selfish had she been, if all joy and happiness had fled, she still had her work before her--her duty to perform. With such thoughts as these, her tears became less bitter. Soft tear of quiet resignation followed the bitter rebellious ones she had shed so abundantly, and she resolved by steady abnegation of self, to forget the past (as much as might be) in the business and duties of the present. Then with a prayer for strength to keep this resolution, and patience to wait, and work until such time as rest should be vouchsafed her, she fell asleep.

 

With a severe headache, and extremely weak from the trying night she had past, Isabel waited for the doctor next day, though she had determined to give him a favorable answer, she wondered much how she could go, when she felt almost unable to raise her hand to her head. She was feverish and restless, very anxious for his arrival, yet dreading it, for it seemed as though she were about by her own act, to put an end to these quiet days of rest, and dreamy reverie, which she fain would prolong.

 

However, when Dr. Heathfield came, she managed to return his greeting with some degree of cheerfulness.

 

"I trust you feel better to-day," he said.

 

"No, rather worse, the dose you administered was anti-narcotic I assure you, but I have decided to accede to Mrs. Arlington's wishes. I will do my utmost for the children, but I fear that will be very little," and she smiled faintly from her pillow.

 

"Pooh, nonsense, you are not to teach at present, we all know you can't do that," returned the doctor cheerfully, "what good would the poor children get if they were cooped up in a school-room all day, time enough for that when they come home again." Dr. Heathfield began to fear that the dose had been too strong, when he felt the feverish pulse. "You must be very quiet to-day, promise me that you will not worry yourself," he said, "I shall tell Mrs. Arlington not to let the girls tease you."

 

"They never tease me." replied Isabel hastily.

 

"Oh they don't, well that is fortunate," he answered, preparing some mysterious compound that he had taken from his pocket, "now if you take this" he continued, presenting the mixture, "and then take a nice little sleep, you will feel much better by the afternoon, and then if Miss Emily would read to you, it would be better than talking."

 

"I'm afraid your patient is not so well to-day doctor," said Mrs. Arlington coming in, "she seems feverish this morning."

 

"Oh, she has been tormenting herself, thinking that she had to teach while at D----, but I think if you keep her quiet, this feverishness will soon subside, and she is going with the children to D---- like a good sensible girl," replied the doctor.

 

"I am very glad that you have come to that decision Isabel, as I should not think of sending the children without you," (no more she would) said Mrs. Arlington, keeping up the farce that she was the obliged party. "Emily and Norris go with you, so that you have no cause for anxiety, dear," she added, laying her cool hand upon Isabel's hot forehead.

 

"Is your head very bad," inquired the doctor, pulling down the blind. Then as Isabel assented, he went on, "if you were to send the quiet one, (Alice I think you call her) to bathe her temples with a little lotion it would be as well."

 

"I think it should be Norris, I don't like to trust the children," Mrs. Arlington began.

 

"You may trust Alice," interrupted Isabel.

 

"Very well," returned Mrs. Arlington smiling, "then Alice it shall be."

 

Within a week, everything was arranged for their departure, Everard was to escort them to D---- and see them comfortably settled, and then proceed to H---- College. The morning they were to start, Isabel joined them at the early school-room breakfast. This was the first time that Everard had seen her since her illness, and he was inexpressibly shocked at her appearance, and remonstrated with his mother, saying, that Miss Leicester was not in a fit state to travel.

 

"My dear Everard, I am acting entirely under the the doctor's orders."

 

"Nevertheless it is cruel," he replied gravely.

 

"My dear son what can I do, Dr. Heathfield says that it is absolutely necessary."

 

"It will kill her, that is my opinion of the matter." he answered "why she can scarcely stand, I had no idea she was so awfully weak."

 

"But what can I do," persisted Mrs. Arlington.

 

"Wait until she gets a little stronger," urged Everard.

 

"But the doctor assures me, that she will inevitable sink, if allowed to remain in the same low spirited state."

 

"Why did you not have her among the rest, and then probably she might not have got so low. It is dreadful to see any one so fearfully weak," he added in a tone of grave commiseration.

 

"I don't wonder at your being shocked at her altered appearance, but you should not blame those who have had the care of her, without due consideration. I assure you that she has had every attention," said Mrs. Arlington reproachfully.

 

"I don't wish to blame any one," returned Everard coloring, "surely not you dear mother."

 

"I am glad to hear it," she answered, in a somewhat injured tone. "I was sure that it only required a moment's thought to convince you, that however painful a state Miss Leicester may be in, it has been brought about by circumstances over which we have no control."

 

Everard looked perseveringly out of the window. And his mother continued "it was at her own request that she remained so secluded. But it must not be, we have listened to her entreaties too long already, now others must act for her in the way they think best."

 

"Then it is not her wish to go," observed Everard.

 

"Certainly not, but the doctor almost insists upon it."

 

"Kill or cure as I take it," he returned.

 

"I fear that is too near the truth, unfortunately," replied his mother."

 

"Everard remained silent, and Mrs. Arlington saying that the carriage would be round shortly, quitted the room. Then he returned to the school-room, to find Isabel fainting upon the sofa and Emily bending over her in helpless despair, Amy crying, and Alice emptying the contents of a scent bottle over Isabel, and Rose spilling the smelling salts almost into her mouth, in her anxiety to cram it to her nose. This quaint mode of treatment had the desired effect, for Isabel with a great sigh opened her eyes, and asked what was the matter. Dr. Heathfield arrived soon after this, and ordered Miss Leicester back to her room for a few hours rest, so that they were forced to wait for the next train.