ponded a meek 'yes.' Elizabeth turned and walked off
in stately fashion to the door of the kitchen. The latch was
raised, and then she let it fall again, came back, and stood
again with a very different face and voice before her guest.

"Rose," she said gravely, "I didn't speak just in the best way
to you; but I do not always recollect myself quickly enough.
You mustn't say that sort of thing to me -- I can't bear it. I
am sorry for anything in my manner that was disagreeable to
you just now."

And before Rose had in the least made up her mind how to
answer her, Elizabeth had quitted the room.

"She ain't goin' never!" said Clam, meeting and passing her
mistress as she entered the kitchen. "_I_ don't believe! She's a
goin' to stay."

Karen sat in her wonted rocking-chair before the fire, rocking
a very little jog on her rockers. Elizabeth came up to the
side of the fireplace and stood there, silent and probably
meditative. She had at any rate forgotten Karen, when the old
woman spoke, in a feebler voice than usual.

"Is the Governor comin'?"

"What, Karen?" said Elizabeth, knowing very well what she had
asked, but not knowing so well the drift and intent of it.

"Is the Governor comin'? will he be along directly?"

"No -- I suppose not. Do you want to see him, Karen?"

"I'd like to see him," said the old woman covering her eyes
with her withered hand. "I thought he was comin'."

"Perhaps something may bring him, some day. I dare say you
will see him by and by -- I don't know how soon."

"I'll see him _there_," said the old woman. "I can't stay here
long."

"Why, you don't seem any worse, Karen, do you? Aren't you
going to be well again?"

"Not here," said the old woman. "I'm all goin' to pieces. I'll
go to bed to-night, and I won't get up again."

"Don't say that, Karen; because I think you will."

"I'll go to bed," she repeated in a rather plaintive manner.
"I thought he'd be here."

It touched Elizabeth acutely; perhaps because she had so near
a fellow feeling that answered Karen's, and allowed her to
comprehend how exceedingly the desire for his presence might
grow strong in one who had a right to wish for it. And she
knew that he would reckon old Karen his friend, whatever other
people would do.

"What can I do for you, Karen?" she said gently. "Let me be
the best substitute I can. What can I do for you, that he
could do better?"

"There can't nobody do just the Governor's work," said his