th a rod of iron. How
wonderful was the instinct by which this little creature, who so seldom
heard one word of parental severity or parental fondness, yet knew so
thoroughly the language of both! Had I been the most depraved of
children, or the most angelic, I could not have been more sternly
excluded from the sugar-bowl, or more overwhelmed with compensating
kisses.

Later on that day, while little Marian was taking the very profoundest
nap that ever a baby was blessed with, (she had a pretty way of dropping
asleep in unexpected corners of the house, like a kitten,) I somehow
strayed into a confidential talk with Janet about her mistress. I was
rather troubled to find that all her loyalty was for Laura, with nothing
left for Kenmure, whom indeed she seemed to regard as a sort of
objectionable altar, on which her darlings were being sacrificed. When
she came to particulars, certain stray fears of my own were confirmed.
It seemed that Laura's constitution was not fit, Janet averred, to bear
these irregular hours, early and late; and she plaintively dwelt on the
untasted oatmeal in the morning, the insufficient luncheon, the
precarious dinner, the excessive walking, the evening damps. There was
coming to be a look about her such as her mother had, who died at
thirty. As for Marian--but here the complaint suddenly stopped; it would
have required far stronger provocation to extract from the faithful soul
one word that might seem to reflect on Laura.

Another year, and her forebodings had come true. It is needless to dwell
on the interval. Since then I have sometimes felt a regret almost
insatiable, in the thought that I should have been absent while all that
gracious beauty seemed fading and dissolving like a cloud; and yet at
other times it has appeared a relief to think that Laura would ever
remain to me in the fulness of her beauty, not a tint faded, not a
lineament changed. With all my efforts, I arrived only in time to
accompany Kenmure home at night, after the funeral service. We paused at
the door of the empty house,--how empty! I hesitated, but Kenmure
motioned to me to follow him in.

We passed through the hall and went up stairs. Janet met us at the head
of the stairway, and asked me if I would go in to look at little Marian,
who was sleeping. I begged Kenmure to go also, but he refused, almost
savagely, and went on with heavy step into Laura's deserted room.

Almost the moment I entered the child's chamber,