Averil meantime lay on her sofa calmly happy, and thankful, the worn
and wearied spirit full of rest and gladness unspeakable, in the
fulness of gratitude for the answered prayer that she might know her
brother free before her death. If she had ever doubted of her own
state, she had read full confirmation in her physician's saddened eyes,
and the absence of all hopeful auguries, except the single hint that
she might survive a voyage to England; and that she wished unsaid.
Life, for the last five years, had been mournful work; there had been
one year of blind self-will, discord, and bitterness, then a crushing
stroke, and the rest exhausted submission and hopeless bending to
sorrow after sorrow, with self-reproach running through all. Wearied
out, she was glad to lay down the burthen, and accept the evening gleam
as sunset radiance, without energy to believe it as the dawn of a
brighter day. She shrank from being made even to wish to see Leonard.
If once she began to think it possible, it would be a hard sacrifice to
give it up; and on one point her resolution was fixed, that she would
not be made a cause for bringing him to share their wretchedness in
America. Life and things of life were over with her, and she would
only be thankful for the softening blessings that came at its close,
without stirring up vain longings for more. That kindness of Tom May,
for instance, how soothing it was after her long self-reproach for her
petulant and cutting unjust reply to his generous affection--generous
above all at such a moment!

And after all, it was he--it was he and no other who had cleared
Leonard--he had fulfilled the pledge he had given when he did not know
what he was talking of. How she hated the blush that the sudden
remembrance had called up on her face! It was quite plain that he had
been disgusted by her unkind, undignified, improper tone of rejection;
and though out of humanity he had brought her the tidings, he would not
let her approach to thanking him, she was ashamed that he should have
traced an allusion, the most distant, to the scene he had, doubtless,
loathed in remembrance. He would, no doubt, go away to-day or
to-morrow, and then these foolish thoughts would subside, and she
should be left alone with Cora and her thankfulness, to think again of
the great change before her!

But Tom was not gone. Indeed Averil was much more ill before the next
morning, partly from hysteria, the reaction of the morni