"Tell me the old, old story."

"My dear Zoe! what a happy face!" was Ella's pleased exclamation, as the two met in the breakfast-room.

"Very bright, indeed!" said Arthur, who had come in with Zoe, smiling kindly upon her as he spoke.

"Because it reflects the light and joy in my heart," she returned.

"Wouldn't it be strange if I were not happy in knowing that my husband is not seriously hurt? Oh, we have been so happy together, that I have often feared it could not last!"

"There seems every reasonable prospect that it will," Arthur said, as they seated themselves at the table. "You are both young and healthy, your tastes are congenial, and you have enough of this world's goods to enable you to live free from carking cares and exhausting labors."

Zoe was in so great haste to return to Edward, that she could scarce refrain from eating her breakfast more rapidly than was consistent with either politeness toward her guests or a due regard for her own health: but she tried to restrain her impatience; and Arthur, who perceived and sympathized with it, exerted himself for her entertainment, telling amusing anecdotes, and making mirth-provoking remarks.

Ella, perceiving his designs, joined in, in the same strain. Zoe presently entered into their mood, and they seemed, as in fact they were, a light-hearted and happy little breakfast party; both Arthur and Ella feeling greatly relieved by the favorable change in their cousin, not for Zoe's sake alone, but also because of their own affection for him.

Edward no longer needed Arthur as nurse: indeed, Zoe claimed the right to a monopoly of the, to her, sweet task of waiting upon him, and attending to all his wants. So Arthur resigned in that capacity, but was to continue his visits as physician.

He and Ella returned to Roselands shortly after leaving the breakfast-table; and Zoe, in joyous, tender mood, took her place by her husband's bedside.

He welcomed her with a loving smile, taking her hand in his, and carrying it to his lips.

"Arthur has condemned me to lie here for a full week," he said. "It would seem a weary while in the prospect, but for the thought of having, through it all, the sweet companionship of my darling little wife."

"Dear Ned, how good in you to say so!" she murmured, kneeling beside the bed, and laying her cheek to his. "I don't believe there's another creature in the world that thinks my society of much account."

"If you are right in that, which I very much doubt," he said with a smile of incredulity, "it only shows their want of taste, and makes no difference to us, does it, love, since we are all the world to each other?"

"I am sure it makes no difference to me," she responded: "if you love, and are pleased with, me, it's very little I care what anybody else may think or say about me. But, oh! isn't it nice to be alone together again?"

"Very nice."

"And remember, you are to make all possible use of me,--as nurse, reader,--when you feel that you would like to listen to book or news-paper,--as amanuensis, every thing."

"Yes, dearest, I expect to employ you in all those capacities by and by; but at present, I want nothing but to have you sit by my side, and talk to me, while I hold your hand, and feast my eyes on the face that is to me the dearest in all the world."

At that, the pretty face was suffused with blushes and smiles. "I'm so happy! so very happy!" she murmured, stealing an arm round his neck. "It is such a change from yesterday, when for a little while, I--I thought you--were gone, and--and without my having had a chance to ask your forgiveness."

The sobs came thick and fast as she went on. "O Ned! dear, dear Ned!

I--I don't mean ever to be cross to you again, especially when we are going to part even for an hour."

"No," he said, with emotion, and drawing her closer to him; "we should not have parted so; we had promised each other we would not; and I should have gone to you and made it up with you before leaving the house."

"It was all my fault," she sobbed; "and if--if you had been taken from me, I could never have had another happy moment."

"Thank G.o.d that we are spared to each other!" he said with fervent grat.i.tude. "And now, dear wife, let us try to forget that there has been ever any coldness or clashing between us. Let us enjoy the present, and be as happy in each other as if no cloud, even the slightest, had ever come over our intercourse as husband and wife."

"Yes," she said. Then, lifting her face, and gazing earnestly into his, "How pale and exhausted you look!" she cried in alarm. "I have talked, and let you talk, too much and too excitingly. I'm afraid cousin Arthur will say I am but a poor sort of nurse. Now," withdrawing herself from his embrace, and gently re-arranging his pillows, and smoothing the bed-clothes, "shut your eyes, and try to sleep. I'll stay close beside you, and be as quiet as a mouse."

With a faint smile, he did as he was bidden; and she fulfilled her promise to the letter, watching beside him with love and solicitude for two hours, till his eyes again unclosed, and met hers, gazing so tenderly upon him, with an answering look of ardent affection.

"You have had a good nap, and look quite refreshed, dear," she said, bending over him, and softly stroking his hair with her little white hand.

"Yes; I feel much better," he said. "And you, love,--have you been sitting there all this time?"

"Of course I have," she answered gayly: "did you think I would break my word, or feel any desire to go away and leave you?"

"I know you to be the most devoted of nurses, when it is I who require your services," he returned, with a tenderly appreciative smile. "You are the best of little wives. But you must be very weary, and I want you now to go and take some exercise in the open air."

"Is that an order?" she asked playfully.

"Not yet," he returned, in the same tone; "but, if not obeyed as a request, it may become--something stronger."

"Well," she said laughing, "it won't hurt me if it does: you can't hurt me in that way any more; for do you know, Ned," and she bent lovingly over him, pressing a kiss upon his forehead, "I have become such a silly thing, that I actually enjoy obeying you,--when you don't order me as if you thought I wouldn't do as you wish, and you meant to force me to it."

"Forgive me, love, that I have ever done it in that spirit," he said remorsefully, and coloring deeply.

"Ned, I haven't any thing to forgive," she said, with sudden energy and warmth of affection.

"Then you will obey about the air and exercise?" he asked, returning to his playful tone.

"Presently, sir, when I have seen you eat something. It's time for that now, according to the doctor's directions."

She rang for refreshment, saw him take it, then left him for a short time in the care of old Aunt Phillis, while she donned riding hat and habit, mounted her pony, and flew over several miles of road and back again.

She seemed to bring a breath of fresh air with her when she returned to his side.

"My darling," he said, smiling up at her, "how the roses glow on your cheeks, and how bright your eyes are! Give me a kiss, and then sit down close by my side."

"I obey both orders most willingly," she said merrily, as she bent down and kissed him on lips and forehead and cheek, then took possession of the chair she had vacated on leaving the room.

"Now, sir, what next?"

"Move your chair round a trifle, so that I can have a better view of your face."

She smilingly obeyed. "There! does that satisfy your lordship?"

"Quite. Now talk to me."

"About what?"

"Any thing you please: the princ.i.p.al thing is to hear the music of your voice."

"Suppose I sing, then."

"Yes, yes!" eagerly; "that's just what I should enjoy. Let it be, 'I love to tell the story.'"

Zoe had a beautiful voice. Soft and sweet and clear it rose,--