g of you to come to me.

"Yours, Alice Lovell."

I knew not whether Mrs. Tracy was gone--I knew not whether I
should see Henry--I was in total ignorance of what this visit
might produce: but it was a relief to do something--to change
something in the order of my day; and as Edward had not
forbidden me to visit Alice, I felt justified in going to her,
and prepared to do so. As I arrived at her door and walked
up-stairs to her, for the first time I felt a sensation of
bodily weakness, which gave me a sudden apprehension that my
physical strength was giving way under such protracted mental
suffering. The door was opened, and I found Alice alone. As I
looked at her I felt one of the severest pangs I had ever yet
experienced. Never in my life had I seen anybody so altered.
There was not a single speck of colour in her cheek; her eyes
looked unnaturally large, and the black under them was deeply
marked She came to meet me, but did not offer to kiss me; she
held out her thin pale hand; and, slightly pressing mine, made
me sit down by her. She inquired about Mr. Middleton; and
after I had answered her questions, there was a pause, which I
broke by saying, in a trembling voice, "How is your child,
Alice? May I not see him?"

She opened the door of the next room, and showed me the
cradle. The child was asleep, and as I gazed upon it the tears
which I struggled to repress almost choked me. "He is
beautiful," I said.

"Yes, he _is_ beautiful," she murmured, as she knelt down by
the cradle. "He _is_ beautiful, but he does not thrive; he is
not strong." She took the tiny hand pressed it to her pale
lips; and then she rose, and we returned to the drawing-room.

"How you must love him, Alice," I said, with a sigh.

"I do," she answered; and then she put her hand to her
forehead, and a sudden flush overspread her face, her brow,
her neck. Her breathing was quick; and she added, in a voice
of intense emotion, "But if you think I do not love his
father, you are mistaken."

"Alice, I never said--I never thought--"

"Oh yes you did, and you were right to think so; for when I
married him I loved him as a child, not as a woman loves; but
real love and real sorrow came in time, and strength and
courage are come with them. Ellen, I love him; and I charge
you not to stand between him and me. I suppose I am doing a
strange thing now, but it seems to me right. I have none to
help me, none to counsel me but my own heart, and the sor