ed; what tokens of
wear and tear it was showing; taking in at a rapid view the lines of
weariness, the marks of anxiety, the faded colour, the languor of
spirit which had gradually taken the place of the earlier energy. In
word and action they showed none of all this. All the more, no doubt,
when each was alone and the guard might be relaxed, a very grave and
sorrowful expression took possession of their faces. Nothing else might
be relaxed. Day and night the labour and the watch were unintermitting.

And so the summer wore on to an end. Dolly was patient, but growing
very sad; perhaps taking a wider view of things than her mother, who
for the present was swallowed up in the one care about her husband's
condition. Dolly, managing the finances and managing the household, had
both parents to think of; and was sometimes almost in despair.

She was sitting so one afternoon in the kitchen, in a little lull of
work before it was time to get supper, looking out into the summer
glow. It was warm in the small kitchen, but Dolly had not energy to go
somewhere else for coolness. She sat gazing out, and almost querying
whether all things were coming to an end at once; life and the means to
live together, and the strength to get means. And yet she remembered
that it is written--"Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou
dwell in the land, and _verily thou shalt be fed_." But then,--it came
cold into her heart,--it could not be said that her father and mother
had ever fulfilled those conditions; could the promise be good for
_her_ faith alone? And truly, where was Dolly's faith just now? Withal,
as she sat gazing out of the window, she saw that full wealth of
summer, which was a pledge and proof of the riches of the hand from
which it came.

"There's a gentleman, mum," Dolly's little helpmate announced in her
ear. Dolly started.

"A gentleman? what gentleman? It isn't the doctor? He has been here."

"It's no him. I knows Dr. Hopley. It's no him."

"I cannot see company. Is it company, Nelly?"

"The gentleman didn't say, mum."

"Where is he?"

"He's a standin' there at the door."

Dolly slowly rose up and doubtfully took off her great kitchen apron;
doubtfully went upstairs. Perhaps she had better see who it was. Mrs.
Jersey might have sent a messenger,--or Lady Brierley! She went on to
the hall door, which was open, and where indeed she saw a tall figure
against the summer glow which filled all out of doors. A tall fi