It was a superb day, they told me, such as we often have at that season
in our changeful clime, and the distant peal of military music, the
chiming of bells, the firing of cannon, the roar of the awakened
multitude, reached my ear even in that secluded street, that quiet room.

The people were celebrating an anniversary that in all times has brought
joy and pride to millions of united hearts. It was the birthday of
Washington.

Laura Stanbury remained with me while all the rest went to the stately
funeral, Evelyn leading Mabel down-stairs, they told me, attired in her
little black dress, in sad contrast with her ivory skin, her yellow
hair, her childish years, and her unconsciousness of the grave loss she
had sustained; Mrs. Austin following these, her darlings, to go with
them in the principal mourning-coach, in which Mr. Bainrothe also found
himself ensconced, by some diplomacy of his own, no doubt, all clad in
sables, and with his polished aspect fixed in woe!

After the funeral, Dr. Pemberton came up for a few minutes to my
chamber. He found me reasonably calm and composed, and expressed his
gratification at my condition.

"Now, do be very careful of yourself, my dear Miriam, or you may have
one of your sleepy attacks, and they are exhausting to Nature, trying to
both body and soul. We must guard against any thing of this sort at this
time. You know how apt they are to supervene on excitement of any kind
with you." He said this in his own kind, encouraging manner.

"Then they are strictly nervous?" I inquired.