. It was not merely Caroline's
smile which was brighter, or her spirits which were cheered, but a certain look
had passed from her face and eye - a look dread and indescribable, but which
will easily be recalled by those who have watched the couch of dangerous
disease. Long before the emaciated outlines of her aspect began to fill, or its
departed colour to return, a more subtle change took place: all grew softer and
warmer. Instead of a marble mask and glassy eye, Mrs. Pryor saw laid on the
pillow a face pale and wasted enough, perhaps more haggard than the other
appearance, but less awful; for it was a sick, living girl - not a mere white
mould, or rigid piece of statuary.
    Now, too, she was not always petitioning to drink. The words »I am so
thirsty,« ceased to be her plaint. Sometimes, when she had swallowed a morsel,
she would say it had revived her: all descriptions of food were no longer
equally distasteful; she could be induced, sometimes, to indicate a preference.
With what trembling pleasure and anxious care did not her nurse prepare what was
selected! How she watched her as she partook of it!
    Nourishment brought strength. She could sit up. Then she longed to breathe
the fresh air, to revisit her flowers, to see how the fruit had ripened. Her
uncle, always liberal, had bought a garden-chair for her express use: he carried
her down in his own arms, and placed her in it himself, and William Farren was
there to wheel her round the walks, to show her what he had done amongst her
plants, to take her directions for further work.
    William and she found plenty to talk about: they had a dozen topics in
common; interesting to them, unimportant to the rest of the world. They took a
similar interest in animals, birds, insects, and plants: they held similar
doctrines about humanity to the lower creation; and had a similar turn for
minute observation on points of natural history. The nest and proceedings of
some ground-bees, who had burrowed in the turf under an old cherry-tree, was one
subject of interest: the haunts of certain hedge-sparrows, and the welfare of
certain pearly eggs and callow fledglings, another.
    Had »Chambers' Journal« existed in those days, it would certainly have
formed Miss Helstone's and Farren's favourite periodical. She would have
subscribed for it; and to him each number would duly have been lent: both would
have put implicit
