the sofa, but the movement seemed so far to
rouse her, that she said, "I should like to go to bed."

"Right--the best thing," said Dr. May; and he whispered to Ethel, "Go
with her, but don't try to rouse her--don't talk to her. Come back to
me, presently."

He did not even shake hands with Meta, nor wish her good-night, as she
disappeared into her own room.

Bellairs undressed her, and Ethel stood watching, till the young head,
under the load of sorrow, so new to it, was laid on the pillow. Bellairs
asked her if she would have a light.

"No, no, thank you--the dark and alone. Good-night," said Meta. Ethel
went back to the sitting-room, where her father was standing at the
window, looking out into the night. He turned as she came in, folded her
in his arms, and kissed her forehead. "And how is the poor little dear?"
he asked.

"The same," said Ethel. "I can't bear to leave her alone, and to have
said nothing to comfort her."

"It is too soon as yet," said Dr. May--"her mind has not taken it in. I
hope she will sleep all night, and have more strength to look at it when
she wakens."

"She was utterly unprepared."

"I could not make her understand me," said Dr. May.

"And, oh, papa, what a pity she was not there!"

"It was no sight for her, till the last few minutes; and his whole mind
seemed bent on sparing her. What tenderness it has been."

"Must we leave her to herself all night?"

"Better so," said Dr. May. "She has been used to loneliness; and to
thrust companionship on her would be only harassing."

Ethel, who scarcely knew what it was to be alone, looked as if she did
not understand.

"I used to try to force consolation on people," said Dr. May, "but I
know, now, that it can only be done by following their bent."

"You have seen so many sorrows," said Ethel.

"I never understood till I felt," said Dr. May. "Those few first days
were a lesson."

"I did not think you knew what was passing," said Ethel.

"I doubt whether any part of my life is more distinctly before me than
those two days," said Dr. May. "Flora coming in and out, and poor Alan
sitting by me; but I don't believe I had any will. I could no more have
moved my mind than my broken arm; and I verily think, Ethel, that, but
for that merciful torpor, I should have been frantic. It taught me never
to disturb grief."

"And what shall we do?"

"You must stay with her till Flora comes. I will be here as much as I
can. She is our charge,