pstairs to her mother's room.

After her husband's disappearance, Mrs. Enderby had passed her days in
a morbid apathy, contrasting strangely with the restless excitement
which had so long possessed her. But a change came over her from the
day when she was told of Maud's approaching marriage. It was her
delight to have Maud sit by her bed, or her couch, and talk over the
details of the wedding and the new life that would follow upon it. Her
interest in Waymark, which had fallen off during the past half-year,
all at once revived; she conversed with him as she had been used to do
when she first made his acquaintance, and the publication of his book
afforded her endless matter for gossip. She began to speak of herself
as an old woman, and of spending her last years happily in the country.
To all appearances she had dismissed from her mind the calamity which
had befallen her; her husband might have been long dead for any thought
she seemed to give him. She was wholly taken up with childish joy in
trivial matters. The dress in which Maud should be married gave her
thoughts constant occupation, and she fretted at any opposition to her
ideas. Still, like a child, she allowed herself to be brought round to
others' views, and was ultimately led to consent that the costume
should be a very simple one, merely a new dress, in fact, which Maud
would be able to wear subsequently with little change. Even thus, every
detail of it was as important to her as if it had been the most
elaborate piece of bridal attire. In talking with Maud, too, she had
lost that kind of awe which had formerly restrained her; it was as
though she had been an affectionate mother ever since her daughter's
birth. She called her by pet names, often caressed her, and wished for
loving words and acts in return. Of Miss Bygrave's presence in the
house she appeared scarcely conscious, never referring to her, and
suffering a vague trouble if her sister entered the room where she was,
which Theresa did very seldom.

The new dress had come home finished this evening whilst Maud was away.
On the latter's return, her mother insisted on seeing her at once in
it, and Maud obeyed. A strange bride, rather as one who was about to
wed herself to Heaven beneath the veil, than preparing to be led to the
altar.

Having resumed her ordinary dregs, Maud went downstairs to the parlour
where her aunt was sitting. Miss Bygrave laid down a book as she
entered.

"We shall not see ea