that her aunts told her.
She was as good and docile as she could be. But, oh! there were some
dreary hours as she sat, alone, in that stuffy drawing-room, trying to
sew, her heart aching with loneliness, her needle always doing the
wrong thing, the clock heavily ticking, Thomas watching her from the
mat in front of the fire, and the family group sneering at her from the
wall-paper.

It was during these hours that superstitious terrors gained upon her.
Could it be possible that all those women whom she had seen gathered
together in Miss Avies's room really expected God to come when the
clock struck twelve on the last night of the year? It was like some old
story of ghosts and witches that her nurse used to tell her when she
was a little girl at St. Dreot's. And yet, in that dark dreary room,
almost anything seemed possible. After all, if there was a God, why
should He not, one day, suddenly appear? And if He wished to spare
certain of His servants, why should He not prepare them first before He
came? There were things just as strange in the Old and New Testament.
But if He did come, what would His Coming be like? Would every one be
burnt to death or would they all be summoned before some judgment and
punished for the wicked things they had done? Would her father perhaps
return and give evidence against her? And poor Uncle Mathew, how would
he fare with all his weaknesses? Her efforts at laughing at herself
rescued her from some of the more incredible of these pictures.
Nevertheless the uncertainty remained and only increased her
loneliness. Had Martin been there in five minutes they would, together,
have chased all these ghosts away. But he was not there. And at the
thought of him she would have to set her mouth very firmly, indeed, to
prevent her lips from trembling. She took out her ring and kissed it,
and looked at the already tattered copy of the programme of the play to
which they had been, and recalled every minute of their walks together.

Christmas Day was a very miserable affair. There were no presents and
no festivities. They went to Chapel and Mr. Thurston preached the
sermon. Maggie did, however, receive one letter. It was from Uncle
Mathew. He wrote to her from some town in the north. He didn't seem
very happy, and asked her whether she could possibly lend him five
pounds. Alluding with a characteristic vagueness to "business plans of
the first importance that were likely to mature very shortly."

She tol