commentary of wonder and
reprobation, and much virtuous criticism, events were suffered
uninterruptedly to take their sinister and melancholy course.

It was about two months after the death of Mrs. Marston, and on a bleak
and ominous night at the wintry end of autumn, that poor Rhoda, in deep
mourning, and pale with grief and agitation, descended from a chaise at
the well-known door of the mansion of Gray Forest. Whether from
consideration for her feelings, or, as was more probable, from pure
indifference, Rhoda was conducted, on her arrival, direct to her own
chamber, and it was not until the next morning that she saw her father.
He entered her room unexpectedly, he was very pale, and as she thought,
greatly altered, but he seemed perfectly collected, and free from
agitation. The marked and even shocking change in his appearance, and
perhaps even the trifling though painful circumstance that he wore no
mourning for the beloved being who was gone, caused her, after a moment's
mute gazing in his face, to burst into an irrepressible flood of tears.
Marston waited stoically until the paroxysm had subsided, and then taking
her hand, with a look in which a dogged sternness was contending with
something like shame, he said:--

"There, there; you can weep when I am gone. I shan't say very much to you
at present, Rhoda, and only wish you to attend to me for one minute.
Listen, Rhoda; the lady whom you have been in the habit (here he slightly
averted his eyes) of calling Mademoiselle de Barras, is no longer so; she
is married; she is my wife, and consequently you will treat her with the
respect due to"--he would have said "a mother," but could not, and
supplied the phrase by adding, "to that relation."

Rhoda was unable to speak, but almost unconsciously bowed her head in
token of attention and submission, and her father pressed her hand more
kindly, as he continued:--

"I have always found you a dutiful and obedient child, Rhoda, and
expected no other conduct from you. Mrs. Marston will treat you with
proper kindness and consideration, and desires me to say that you can,
whenever you please, keep strictly to yourself, and need not, unless
you feel so disposed, attend the regular meals of the family. This
privilege may suit your present depressed spirits, and you must not
scruple to use it."

After a few words more, Marston withdrew, leaving his daughter to her
reflections, and bleak and bitter enough they were.

Some we