, taking Minnie and her
mother along.
Once again in her pleasant home, surrounded by the tenderest care (for
her mother watched over her with the utmost solicitude) the violence of
her fever abated, but it was succeeded by a low nervous affection which
while it produced no pain yet it slowly unstrung her vitality.
Ellen hovered around her pillow as if she begrudged every moment that
called her from her daughter's side, and never seemed so well contented
as when she was performing for her some office of love and tenderness. A
skilful nurse, she knew how to prepare the most delicate viands to tempt
the failing appetite, and she had the exquisite pleasure of seeing her
care and attention rewarded by the returning health and strength of her
child.
One morning as she grew stronger, and was able to sit in her chair, she
turned her eyes tenderly towards Ellen and said, "Mother, come and sit
near me and let me hold your hand."
"Mother," Oh how welcome was that word. Ellen's eyes filled with sudden
tears.
"Mother," she said, "It comes back to me like a dream. I have a faint
recollection of having seen you before, but it is so long I can scarcely
remember it. Tell me all about myself and how I came to leave you.
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