es as the evening
came on. We each tried at first to pack up in our own rooms--but the
loneliness was more than we could bear. We carried all our possessions
downstairs, and heaped them on the large dining-table, and so made our
preparations together in the same room. I am sure we have taken nothing
away which does not properly belong to us.

"Having already mentioned to you my own conviction that Magdalen was not
herself when you saw her on Wednesday, I feel tempted to stop here and
give you an instance in proof of what I say. The little circumstance
happened on Wednesday night, just before we went up to our rooms.

"After we had packed our dresses and our birthday presents, our books
and our music, we began to sort our letters, which had got confused from
being placed on the table together. Some of my letters were mixed with
Magdalen's, and some of hers with mine. Among these last I found a card,
which had been given to my sister early in the year by an actor who
managed an amateur theatrical performance in which she took a part.
The man had given her the card, containing his name and address, in the
belief that she would be invited to many more amusements of the same
kind, and in the hope that she would recommend him as a superintendent
on future occasions. I only relate these trifling particulars to show
you how little worth keeping such a card could be, in such circumstances
as ours. Naturally enough, I threw it away from me across the table,
meaning to throw it on the floor. It fell short, close to the place
in which Magdalen was sitting. She took it up, looked at it, and
immediately declared that she would not have had this perfectly
worthless thing destroyed for the world. She was almost angry with me
for having thrown it away; almost angry with Miss Garth for asking what
she could possibly want with it! Could there be any plainer proof than
this that our misfortunes--falling so much more heavily on her than
on me--have quite unhinged her, and worn her out? Surely her words
and looks are not to be interpreted against her, when she is not
sufficiently mistress of herself to exert her natural judgment--when
she shows the unreasonable petulance of a child on a question which is
not of the slightest importance.

"A little after eleven we went upstairs to try if we could get some
rest.

"I drew aside the curtain of my window and looked out. Oh, what a cruel
last night it was: no moon, no stars; such deep darkness