y mended, this cold evening."

"Dar's plenty of coal in de box, an' de tongs, wid claws, wat Ernie is
so fond of handlin', ready and waitin' for dem wat's strong enough to
use dem if dey choose, an' tea in de caddy, an' de kittle on de trivet,
jes filled up, de brass toastin'-fork on de peg in de closet, 'sides
bread an' butter, an' jam, an' new milk on de shelf, an' I is 'bliged to
go anyway, case my ticklerest friend am dyin' ob de numony--I is jes got
word; but at nine o'clock" (and she looked maliciously at me) "percisely
Dinah 'll be in dis pickin' patch--he! he! he! can't possumbly cum no
airlier."

In a flash I saw the advantage her prolonged absence would give me,
unless, indeed, she had become my confederate, so I beheld her depart
with a feeling of relief which reacted in the next moment to positive
helplessness and terror as the bolt was drawn behind her. What could I
do? What was there to be done? For a time I sat mute and crushed by
consideration; then casting myself on my bed I slept for half an hour,
the kind of slumber that confusion generates, and yet I woke refreshed,
calmed, comforted, and with a clearly-formed resolution and plan of
action. I rose and approached Mrs. Clayton, whose groans, perhaps,
aroused me, and, as I stood beside her bed, the clock in the dining room
below struck six. I had still three hours for hope--for endeavor, before
the circle of flame should close hopelessly around me forever! Three
hours--were they not enough? Could I not compel them to concentration?

A cup of strong tea was hastily drawn and swallowed--another made for,
and administered by my hand to, Mrs. Clayton, with toast _ad
libitum_,--a tedious process--and afterward Ernie's supper prepared and
eaten--all in less than half an hour. By seven he was in bed and asleep,
and I had taken my seat by Mrs. Clayton, for the purpose, apparently, of
merciful ministry to her condition--a piece of self-abnegation, as it
seemed, and as she felt it, scarcely to be expected on my blissful
marriage night.

"I feel very sorry for you; you suffer so, Mrs. Clayton," I had said, as
I drew a chair beside her bed.

"And I for you, Miss Monfort; our fate seems equally hard, but we must
bear it;" and she groaned heavily and closed her eyes, evidently in
great pain.

"I have come to that conclusion, also, after a bitter struggle; physical
pain is not so easily borne, however; the body has little philosophy."

"I thought all this was