e.
But it is difficult."

She left him to his work, and went away, thinking. All the time she had
now been in Petershof had not sufficed to make her indifferent to the
sadness of her surroundings. In vain the Disagreeable Man's preachings,
in vain her own reasonings with herself.

These people here who suffered, and faded, and passed away, who were
they to her?

Why should the faintest shadow steal across her soul on account of them?

There was no reason. And still she felt for them all, she who in the old
days would have thought it waste of time to spare a moment's reflection
on anything so unimportant as the sufferings of an _individual_ human
being.

And the bridge between her former and her present self was her own
illness.

What dull-minded sheep we must all be, how lacking in the very elements
of imagination, since we are only able to learn by personal experience
of grief and suffering, something about the suffering and grief of
others!

Yea, how the dogs must wonder at us: those dogs who know when we are in
pain or trouble, and nestle nearer to us.

So Bernardine reached her own door. She heard her name called, and,
turning round, saw Mrs. Reffold. There was a scared look on the
beautiful face.

"Miss Holme," she said, "I have been sent for--I daren't go to him
alone--I want you--he is worse. I am" . . .

Bernardine took her hand, and the two women hurried away in silence.

CHAPTER XVI.

WHEN THE SOUL KNOWS ITS OWN REMORSE.

BERNARDINE had seen Mr. Reffold the previous day. She had sat by his
side and held his hand. He had smiled at her many times, but he only
spoke once.

"Little Brick," he whispered--for his voice had become nothing but a
whisper. "I remember all you told me. God bless you. But what a long
time it does take to die."

But that was yesterday.

The lane had come to an ending at last, and Mr. Reffold lay dead.

They bore him to the little mortuary chapel. And Bernardine stayed with
Mrs. Reffold, who seemed afraid to be alone. She clung to Bernardine's
hand.

"No, no," she said excitedly, "you must not go! I can't bear to be
alone: you must stay with me!"

She expressed no sorrow, no regret. She did not even speak his name.
She just sat nursing her beautiful face.

Once or twice Bernardine tried to slip away. This waiting about was a
strain on her, and she felt that she was doing no good.

But each time Mrs. Reffold looked up and prevented her.

"No, no," she said