count them as they passed, and lose them in the hollow distance, he would lie and count the many-colored rings around the candle, and wait patiently for day. His only trouble was the swift and rapid river. He felt forced, sometimes, to try to stop it, to stem it with his childish hands, or choke its way with sand; and, when he saw it coming on resistless, he cried out. But a word from Florence, who was always at his side, restored him to himself; and, leaning his poor head upon her breast, he told Floy of his dream, and smiled. When day began to dawn again, he watched for the sun; and, when its cheerful light began to sparkle in the room, he pictured to himself — pictured! he saw-the high church-towers rising up into the morning sky, the town reviving, waking, starting into life once more, the river glistening as it rolled (but rolling fast as ever), and the country bright with dew. Familiar sounds and cries came by degrees into the street below; the servants in the house were roused and busy; faces looked in at the door; and voices asked his attendants softly how he Paul always answered for himself, I am better: I am a great deal better! thank you. Tell papa so.' By little and little, he got tired of the bustle of the day,the noise of carriages and carts, and people passing and repassing, and would fall asleep, or be troubled with a restless and uneasy sense again the child could hardly tell whether this were in his sleeping or waking moments of that rushing river. Why will it never

was.

6

stop, Floy?' he would sometimes ask her. It is bearing me away, I think.'

"But Floy could always soothe and re-assure him; and it was his daily delight to make her lay her head down on his pillow, and take some rest.

"You are always watching me, Floy : let me watch you now.' They would prop him up with cushions in a corner of his bed; and there he would recline the while she lay beside him, bending forward oftentimes to kiss her, and whispering to those who were near, that she was tired, and how she had sat up so many nights beside him. Thus the flush of the day, in its heat and its light, would gradually decline; and again the golden water would be dancing on the wall.

"He was visited by as many as three grave doctors (they used to assemble down stairs, and come up together); and the room was so quiet, and Paul was so observant of them (though he never asked of anybody what they said), that he even knew the difference in the sound of their watches. But his interest centred in Sir Parker Peps, who always took his seat on the side of the bed. For Paul had heard them say, long ago, that the gentleman had been with his mamma when she clasped Florence in her arms and died; and he could not forget it now. He liked him for it. He was not afraid.

"The people round him changed as unaccountably as on that first night at Dr. Blimber's (except Florence;

Florence never changed); and what had been Sir Parker Peps was now his father, sitting with his head upon his hand. Old Mrs. Pipchin, dozing in an easy-chair, often changed to Miss Fox or his aunt; and Paul was quite content to shut his eyes again, and see what happened next without emotion. But this figure, with its head upon its hand, returned so often, and remained so long, and sat so still and solemn, never speaking, never being spoken to, and rarely lifting up its face, that Paul began to wonder languidly if it were real, and in the night-time saw it sitting there with fear.

"Floy,' he said, what is that?'

"There, at the bottom of the bed.'.

"There's nothing there, except papa.'

"The figure lifted up its head, and rose, and, coming to the bedside, said, 'My own boy, don't you know me?'

"Paul looked it in the face, and thought, Was this his father? But the face so altered, to his thinking, thrilled, as he gazed, as if he were in pain; and before he could reach out both his hands to take it between them, and draw it towards him, the figure turned away quickly from the little bed, and went out at the door.

"Paul looked at Florence with a fluttering heart; but he knew what she was going to say, and stopped her with his face against her lips. The next time he observed the figure sitting at the bottom of the bed, he ealled to it,

"Don't be sorry for me, dear papa! Indeed, I am quite happy!'

"His father, coming, and bending down to him, which he did quickly, and without first pausing by the bedside, Paul held him round the neck, and repeated those words to him several times, and very earnestly; and Paul never saw him in his room at any time, whether it were day or night, but he called out, 'Don't be so sorry for me! Indeed, I am quite happy!' This was the beginning of his always saying in the morning that he was a great deal better, and that they were to tell his father so.

"How many times the golden water danced upon the wall, how many nights the dark, dark river rolled towards the sea in spite of him, Paul never counted, never sought to know. If their kindness, or his sense of it, could have increased, they were more kind, and he more grateful, every day; but whether they were many days or few appeared of little moment now to the gentle boy.

“One night he had been thinking of his mother, and her picture in the drawing-room down stairs, and thought she must have loved sweet Florence better than his father did, to have held her in her arms when she thought she was dying; for even he, her brother, who had such dear love for her, could have no greater wish than that. The train of thought suggested to him to inquire if he had ever seen his mother; for he could

not remember whether they had told him yes or no, the river running very fast, and confusing his mind.

"Did I ever see any kind of face like mamma's looking at me when I was a baby, Floy?'

"He asked incredulously, as if he had some vision of a face before him.

"Whose, Floy?'

"Your old, old nurse's: often.'

"And where is my old nurse?' said Paul. dead too? Floy, are we all dead except you?'

'Is she

“There was a hurry in the room for an instant, longer, perhaps ; but it seemed no more, then all still

---

again; and Florence, with her face quite colorless, but smiling, held his head upon her arm. Her arm trembled very much.

"Show me the old nurse, Floy, if you please?'

"She is not here, darling. She shall come to

morrow.'

"Thank you, Floy!'

"Paul closed his eyes with these words, and fell asleep. When he awoke, the sun was high, and the broad day was clear and warm. He lay a little while, looking at the windows, which were open, and the curtains rustling in the air, and waving to and fro; then he said, 'Floy, is it to-morrow? Is she come?'