ess in her face, that it brought back to me all the old
sorrow of that night of suffering at her brother's. Once more I
soothed her, smoothed back the dark plumage of her hair, and with soft
words and gentle caresses, brought her to quietness.

"'You are ill, my poor Mary,' I said, as I looked at her sunken cheek,
and the deep gloom about her eyes. 'Where is Mr. Gardner?'

"'Oh, he is gone most of the time,' said she hastily, and then, for
the first time, seeming to recollect her duty as hostess, she added,
'but you are tired and travel-soiled, and hungry, too, I dare say; let
me make you comfortable.' She laughed a little as she spoke, but not
like her old laugh, it was affected, and died in its birth.

"She rang the bell, gave orders for lunch to be brought in, and a room
prepared for me, with something of her old activity, and saying
cordially, 'Now you must stay with me; now I have got you here, I
cannot spare you again.' She relapsed into thoughtfulness and absence.
This strange manner puzzled me not a little.

"I went up stairs. The white dreariness of my room chilled me. Mary
did not accompany me as she would once have done, to see that all was
comfortable for me. The muslin window-curtains hid the view outside,
and the stately high-post bedstead, with its gilded tester, looked as
if sleep would be afraid to 'come anear' it. My trunks were brought
up, and then a silence like death was in the house. No child was in
the house, that was clear--and nobody else it would seem. Well, I must
wait. I should know all in good time. I dressed and went down to the
parlor. Mary still hovered over the fire, looking, in her white
wrapper and whiter face, more like a ghost than any living thing. I
had intended to be calmly cheerful, to talk to Mary about old times,
and by degrees to lead her to speak of so much of her present life as
would give me an insight into the mysterious sorrow that reigned like
a presence over the dwelling.

"But as poor Ophelia says, 'we know what we are, but not what we shall
be.' So no more did I know how to look at that crouching figure and be
cheerful and calm. I lost all presence of mind, and could only sit
down and cry heartily. Mary rose at the sound of my weeping and came
to me.

"'Do you know I cannot weep, Susan? These fountains are drained dry.
See, there are no tears in my eyes, though God knows my heart is
drowned all day and night. It is dreadful to have such a burning head
as mine,