enough to him in all troubles.
But is it quite gone by? Oh yes; last time he came home, he hardly
seemed to notice that we had a new little girl, that he had never seen
before. Well, no doubt it must be so. He did not complain, and he
was calm and quiet, but his mind was full of a whole world of serious
things, a world where there was no room for wife and children. Will it
be the same this evening again? Will he notice that you have dressed so
carefully to please him? Will it be a joy to him any more to feel his
arms around you?

She stood in front of the big, white-framed mirror, and looked
critically at herself. No, she was no longer young as she had been. The
red in her cheeks had faded a little these last few years, and there
were one or two wrinkles that could not be hidden. But her eyebrows--he
had loved to kiss them once--they were surely much as before. And
involuntarily she bent towards the glass, and stroked the dark growth
above her eyes as if it were his hand caressing her.

She came down at last, dressed in a loose blue dress with a broad lace
collar and blond lace in the wide sleeves. And not to seem too
much dressed, she had put on a red-flowered apron to give herself a
housewifely look.

It was past seven now. Louise came whimpering to her, and Merle sank
down in a chair by the window, and took the child on her lap, and
waited.

The sound of wheels in the night may mean the approach of fate itself.
Some decision, some final word that casts us down in a moment from
wealth to ruin--who knows? Peer had been to England now, trying to come
to some arrangement with the Company. Sh!--was that not wheels? She
rose, trembling, and listened.

No, it had passed on.

It was eight o'clock now, time for Louise to go to bed; and Merle began
undressing her. Soon the child was lying in her little white bed, with
a doll on either side. "Give Papa a tiss," she babbled, "and give him
my love. And Mama, do you think he'll let me come into his bed for a bit
tomorrow morning?"

"Oh yes, I'm sure he will. And now lie down and go to sleep, there's a
good girl."

Merle sat down again in the room and waited. But at last she rose, put
on a cloak and went out.

The town lay down there in the autumn darkness under a milk-white mist
of light. And over the black hills all around rose a world of stars.
Somewhere out there was Peer, far out maybe upon some country road, the
horse plodding on through the dark at its own will,