her then, how could they? She often sat for hours in the
woods staring vacantly around, and thinking, thinking.

Had there been any human being in the big, dreary house to whom she
could have poured out all the workings of a young, imprisoned soul
beating against its bars, any one at this crisis to feel for and
sympathise with the hapless child, any kind arm thrown around her, or
hand in hers, things might have been different,--but as it was, alone
she had to battle with all the subtle imaginings, the dim, confused
perceptions, the fancies, the visions which haunted her.

Incredible as it may appear, she looked back upon her married life much
as an emancipated schoolgirl regards the busy, merry past, all-sufficing
at the time, but outgrown and left behind.

Leo never doubted that she had been happy,--but the thought that were it
possible for her one day to wake up and find that all she had gone
through of late was but a bad dream, brought no sense of longing, no
passionate thrill of desire. Instead, she shrank--yes, she shrank and
hung her head, wondering if any one else so placed ever felt the same?
How was it?--why was it?

And anon she knew. It was the look on Sue's face.

In lighter vein, Leonore took to beautifying her person. As Mrs. Stubbs
she had contented herself and annoyed her maid, a conscientious
creature, by fulfilling its bare requirements. She had hurried through
dressing-time, and been impatient of details. Anne's slow method of
handling her hair was a constant worry; and now that Anne no longer
existed for her, it must be owned that there was, or, to be correct,
there had been up to the present, a _curly pow_ presented to the family
on many occasions, which was hardly consistent with the dignity General
Boldero sought to preserve.

But it chanced one day that a girl came to the house whose hair, of
colour and texture similar to Leonore's own, was beautifully arranged
and generally admired. It literally shone in the sun.

And as luck would have it, our heroine was caught at her worst that same
afternoon; and conscious of frowsy locks tumbling about her ears, her
vanity was mortified. She appeared at dinner with a fairly correct
imitation of the visitor's coiffure, and every single member of the
family had something to say about it: Sue's gentle, "You have such
pretty hair, dear Leo," being the finishing touch.

Thenceforth the pretty hair was brushed and brushed; and finding it
still continued