ould realize how he would receive my unwilling
confession, after a whole week's silence. With aching head and heart
I wondered at the cruelty of circumstance that forced the innocent to
suffer with the guilty.

With my intense nature, so susceptible either to pleasure or pain, those
lonely hours in my own room, that bitter day, left their trace on heart
and body for long weary weeks. When at last Mrs. Flaxman came to me, her
own face sad and troubled, I no longer felt the cold in my fireless room;
for the blood now was rushing feverishly in my veins, and my head
throbbing with intense pain. I listened to what she had to say in a
dazed, half-conscious way. I heard her say something about Mr. Winthrop's
displeasure, but I was too sick to care very much for anything, just
then. I startled her at last by saying:--"I do not understand what you
are saying. Please wait and tell me some other time."

"Sure, you have not been sitting all this time here in the cold. You
should have gone where it was warm, or rung for Esmerelda to kindle your
fire."

I rose and tried to walk across the room; but staggered and would have
fallen only that she supported me.

"Are you sick, Medoline?" She asked, in great alarm.

"My head aches and I am very hot," I said uncertainly. I was unused to
sickness and scarcely knew how much pain was necessary before I could
truthfully say I was ill. I remember thinking the matter over with great
seriousness, and wishing Mrs. Blake, with her superior knowledge of
bodily ailments, was there to decide, until at last I got tired and tried
to forget all about it. Then everything began to grow uncertain. I knew
that I was lying in bed and the fire burning brightly in the grate, while
persons were passing to and fro; but they did not look familiar. I kept
wishing so much that Mrs. Blake would come with her strong, cheery
presence to comfort me, and if she would give me a drink of pure cold
water from one of her own clean glasses I should be content to turn my
face to the wall and sleep. But after a time my one despairing thought
was Mr. Winthrop's displeasure, while hour after hour, and day after day,
I tried to tell him that I did not mean to deceive him, and wanted to be
just to every one alike, but he was never convinced and used to come and
go with the same stern, hard look on his face that nearly broke my heart.
When just at the point of utter despair, when I thought all had turned
against me, Mr. Bowen o