CHAPTER XIV.
To thee, dear maid, each kindly wile Was known, that elder sisters know, To check the unseasonable smile, With warning hand and serious brow.
From dream to dream with her to rove, Like fairy nurse with hermit child; Teach her to think, to pray, to love, Make grief less bitter, joy less wild.
LINES ON A MONUMENT AT LICHFIELD.
Sir Matthew Fleet's visit seemed like a turning-point with the May family, rousing and giving them revived hopes.

Norman began to shake off his extreme languor and depression, the doctor was relieved from much of the wearing suffering from his hurt, and his despondency as to Margaret's ultimate recovery had been driven away.

The experiment of taking her up succeeded so well, that on Sunday she was fully attired, "fit to receive company." As she lay on the sofa there seemed an advance toward recovery.

Much sweet coquetry was expended in trying to look her best for her father; and her best was very well, for though the brilliant bloom of health was gone, her cheeks had not lost their pretty rounded contour, and still had some rosiness, while her large bright blue eyes smiled and sparkled.

A screen shut out the rest of the room, making a sort of little parlour round the fire, where sundry of the family were visiting her after coming home from church in the afternoon.
Ethel was in a vehement state of indignation at what had that day happened at school.