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Rh Dixon. The sheriff’s order for her admission to see the old man lay awaiting her wish to use it; but she knew nothing of all this.

For days, nay weeks, she hovered between life and death, tended, as of old, by Miss Monro, while good Mrs. Johnson was ever willing to assist.

One summer evening in early June she wakened into memory.

Miss Monro heard the faint piping voice, as she kept her watch by the bedside.

“Where is Dixon?” asked she.

“At the canon’s house at Bromham.” This was the name of Dr. Livingstone’s county parish.

“Why?”

“We thought it better to get him into country air and fresh scenes at once.”

“How is he?”

“Much better. Get strong, and he shall come to see you.”

“You are sure all is right?” said Ellinor.

“Sure, my dear. All is quite right.”

Then Ellinor went to sleep again out of very weakness and weariness.

From that time she recovered pretty steadily. Her great desire was to return to East Chester as soon as possible. The associations of grief, anxiety, and coming illness, connected with Hellingford, made