s known trouble.'

'And,' said Bertha, stifling her voice, so that her sister could hardly
hear, 'that sorrow could have been only of one kind. Patient waiting is
stamped on her brow. She is trying to lift up her head after cruel
disappointment. Oh, I hope he is dead!'

And, to Phoebe's surprise and alarm, the poor little fortune-teller burst
into tears, and sobbed violently. There could be no doubt that her own
disappointment, rather than that which she ascribed to a stranger,
prompted this gush of feeling; but it was strange, for in all the past
months the poor child's sorrow and shame had been coldly, hardly,
silently borne. The new scenes had thrust it into abeyance, and spirits
and strength had forced trouble aside, but this was the only allusion to
it since her conversation with Miss Charlecote on her sick bed, and the
first sign of softening. Phoebe durst not enter into the subject, but
soothed and composed her by caresses and cheerfulness; but either the
tears, or perhaps their original cause--the fatigue and terror of the
previous day--had entirely unhinged her, and she was in such a nervous,
trembling state, and had so severe a headache, that she was left lying
down, under Lieschen's charge, when the others went to the English
chapel. Her urgent entreaty was that they would bring Miss Holmby to her
on their return. She had conceived almost a passion for this young lady.
Secluded as she had been, no intercourse beyond her own family had made
known to her the pleasure of a friendship; and her mind, in its revival
from its long exhaustion, was full of ardour, in the enthusiasm of a
girl's adoration of a full-grown woman. The new and softening sensation
was infinite gain, even by merely lessening her horror of society; and
when the three churchgoers joined the Holmby party on their way back from
the chapel, they begged, as a kindness to an invalid, for a visit to
Bertha.

It was granted most readily, as if equally pleasant to the giver of the
kindness and to the receiver, and the two young maidens walked home
together. Phoebe could not but explain their gratitude to any one who
could rouse Bertha, saying that her spirits had received a great shock,
and that the effects of her illness on her speech and her eyes had made
her painfully bashful.

'I am so glad,' was the hurried, rather quivering answer. 'I am glad if
I can be of any use.'

Phoebe was surprised, while gratified, by the eager tenderness