a came up,
whispered:

'Has he come?'

'Something has hindered him.' And Emma added, 'He couldn't help it.'

'Well, then, I think he ought to have helped it,' said the other tartly.
'When does he mean to come, I'd like to know?'

'It's uncertain.'

Emma passed into the sick-room. Her sister followed her with eyes of
ill-content, then returned to the kitchen.

Jane lay against pillows. Red light from the fire played over her face,
which was wasted beyond recognition. She looked a handmaiden of Death.

The atmosphere of the room was warm and sickly. A small green-shaded
lamp stood by the looking-glass in front of the window; it cast a disk
of light below, and on the ceiling concentric rings of light and shade,
which flickered ceaselessly, and were at times all but obliterated in a
gleam from the fireplace. A kettle sang on the trivet.

The sick girl's hands lay on the counterpane; one of them moved as Emma
came to the bedside, and rested when the warmer fingers clasped it.
There was eager inquiry in the sunken eyes; her hand tried to raise
itself, but in vain.

'What did Alice say?' she asked, in quick feeble tones. 'Is he coming?'

'Not for Christmas, I'm afraid, dear. He's still very busy.'

'But he sent you a message?'

'Yes. He would have come if he could.'

'Did you tell Alice I wanted to see her? Why didn't she come up? Why did
she stay such a short time?'

'She couldn't stay to-night, Jane. Are you easy still, love?'

'Oh, I did so want to see her. Why couldn't she stop, Emma? It wasn't
kind of her to go without seeing me. I'd have made time if it had been
her as was lying in bed. And he doesn't even answer what I wrote to him.
It was such work to write--I couldn't now; and he might have answered.'

'He very seldom writes to any one, you know, Jane. He has so little
time.'

'Little time! I have less, Emma, and he must know that. It's unkind of
him. What did Alice tell you? Why did he want her to go there? Tell me
everything.'

Emma felt the sunken eyes burning her with their eager look. She
hesitated, pretended to think of something that had to be done, and the
eyes burned more and more. Jane made repeated efforts to raise herself,
as if to get a fuller view of her sister's face.

'Shall I move you?' Emma asked. 'Would you like another pillow?'

'No, no,' was the impatient answer. 'Don't go away from me; don't take
your hand away. I want to know all that Alice said. You haven't any
secrets