"Very well, Gussie, I won't say any more about it," she said; "but it is
no good hiding the truth, dear. I am tired of fighting against it; it is
no good--none at all. Anyhow we have loved each other very much, dear;
and perhaps--somewhere else--we may again."--And the brave little heart
again broke down, and, overcome by the prescience of approaching
separation, they both sobbed bitterly there upon the sofa. Presently came
a knock at the door, and Augusta sprang up and turned to hide her tears.
It was the maid-of-all-work bringing the tea; and, as she came blundering
in, a sense of the irony of things forced itself into Augusta's soul.
Here they were plunged into the most terrible sorrow, weeping at the
inevitable approach of that chill end, and still appearances must be
kept up, even before a maid-of-all-work. Society, even when represented
by a maid-of-all-work, cannot do away with the intrusion of domestic
griefs, or any other griefs, and in our hearts we know it and act up to
it. Far gone, indeed, must we be in mental or physical agony before we
abandon the attempt to keep up appearances.

Augusta drank a little tea and ate a very small bit of bread-and-butter.
As in the case of Mr. Meeson, the events of the day had not tended to
increase her appetite. Jeannie drank a little milk but ate nothing. When
this form had been gone through, and the maid-of-all-work had once more
made her appearance and cleared the table, Jeannie spoke again.

"Gus," she said, "I want you to put me to bed and then come and read to
me out of 'Jemima's Vow'--where poor Jemima dies, you know. It is the
most beautiful thing in the book, and I want to hear it again."

Her sister did as she wished, and, taking down "Jemima's Vow," Jeannie's
_own_ copy as it was called, being the very first that had come into the
house, she opened it at the part Jeannie had asked for and read aloud,