tter stock while I am away."

I sipped my coffee; Alice yawned fearfully, with her hand on the
coffee-pot, ready to pour again. "Why, Charles," she exclaimed, "there
is no cream in your coffee."

"No, there isn't," looking into his cup; "nor sugar."

She threw a lump at him, which he caught, laughing one of his abrupt
laughs.

"How extraordinarily affectionate," I thought, but somehow it pleased
me.

"Why do you tempt me, Alice?" I said. "Doctor White says I must not
drink coffee."

"Tempted!" Charles exclaimed. "Cassandra is never tempted. What she
does, she does because she will. Don't worry yourself, Alice, about
her."

"Because I will," I repeated.

A nervous foreboding possessed me, the moment I entered my room. Was
it the coffee? Twice in the night I lighted my candle, looked at the
little French clock on the mantel, and under the bed. At last I fell
asleep, but starting violently from its oblivious dark, to become
aware that the darkness of the room was sentient. A breath passed over
my face; but I caught no sound, though I held my breath to listen for
one. I moved my hands before me then, but they came in contact with
nothing. My forebodings passed away, and I slept till Alice sent for
me. I sat up in bed philosophizing, and examining the position of
the chairs, the tops of the tables and the door. No change had taken
place. But my eyes happened to fall on my handkerchief, which had
dropped by the bedside. I picked it up; there was a dusty footprint
upon it. The bell rang, and, throwing it under the bed, I dressed and
ran down. Alice was taking breakfast, tired of waiting. She said the
baby had cried till after midnight, and that Charles never came to bed
at all.

"Do eat this hot toast; it has just come in."

"I shall stay at home to-day, Alice, I feel chilly; is it cold?"

"You must have a fire in your room."

"Let me have one to day; I should like to sit there."

She gave orders for the fire, and went herself to see that it burned.
Soon I was sitting before it, my feet on a stool, and a poker in my
hand with which I smashed the smoky lumps of coal which smoldered in
the grate.

I stayed there all day, looking out of the window when I heard the
horses tramp in the stable or a step on the piazza. It was a dull
November day; the atmosphere was glutinous with a pale mist, which
made the leaves stick together in bunches, helplessly cumbering the
ground. The boughs dropped silent tears over them