ed all I wanted to say, that she knew all I knew, and that the
final moment, the crisis, had come. Whatever she might have to tell me in
the morning, I should not be surprised. I did not sleep. All night I
tossed wearily, trying to conjecture what Ellen would do, trying to
imagine what I should do in her place.

At breakfast Ellen seemed better than she had seemed for weeks. Her eyes
were bright and her cheeks pink; but there was an ineffable, almost solemn
tenderness in her manner to John, which was pathetic. Again the suspicion
crossed my mind that she knew that she must die. He too was disturbed by
it; he looked at her constantly with a lingering gaze as if trying to read
her face; and when he bade us good-by to go to the office, he kissed her
over and over as I had not seen him kiss her for months. The tears came
into her eyes, and she threw both arms around his neck for a second,--a
very rare thing for her to do in the presence of others.

"Why, wifie," he said, "you musn't make it too hard for a fellow to get
off!--Doesn't she look well this morning, Sally?" turning to me. "I was
thinking last night that I must take her to the mountains as soon as it
was warm enough. But such cheeks as these don't need it." And he took her
face in his two hands with a caress full of tenderness, and sprang down
the steps.

Just at this moment Mrs. Long's carriage came driving swiftly around the
corner, and the driver stopped suddenly at sight of John.

"Oh, Mr. Gray, Mr. Gray!" called Emma, "I was just coming to take Ellen
and the children for a turn, and we can leave you at the office on our
way."

"Thank you," said John, "but there are several persons I must see before
going to the office, and it would detain you too long. I am already much
too late," and without a second look he hurried on.

I saw a slight color rise in Mrs. Long's cheek, but no observer less
jealous than I would have detected it; and there was not a shade less
warmth than usual in her manner to Ellen.

Ellen told her that she could not go herself, but she would be very glad
to have some of the children go; and then she stood for some moments,
leaning on the carriage-door and talking most animatedly. I looked from
one woman to the other. Ellen at that moment was more beautiful than Mrs.
Long. The strong, serene, upright look which was her most distinguishing
and characteristic expression, actually shone on her face. I wished that
John Gray had stopped to