was very far different from our own. I am persuaded that she was
mentally incapable of being seriously deceived by it. But the heart
of woman is the mystery of the universe. In the face of her honest
judgment, in the truth of that clear common sense that constituted
the strongest trait in her character, this absurd girl went about
bemoaning in dead earnest and in the bitterest grief the death of
her father. This lasted a week; by which time she had succeeded in
convincing her mother, at least, that the affliction was a real one;
and that good lady, being finally, as she believed, released from her
responsibility, and having no occasion to live longer, quietly and
peacefully passed away. And Dora, by the light of this actual sorrow,
came after a while to acknowledge to herself that she had been
breaking her heart over a fictitious one.

Of course the money had gone on before this time, and she was far from
wishing to recall it now. If her father was alive, he was welcome to
it, she said, for he could not possibly put it to a worse use than
that to which it had been dedicated.

A girl as good as Dora could not be left friendless, whatever domestic
affliction she might suffer; and so with all her trouble she had no
opportunity to become absorbed in her sorrow. It would have pained her
unspeakably if she had been aware that her friends generally, however,
so far from inclining to grieve with her grief at the possibility
of her father's death, were quite unanimous in the view that such a
dispensation would be "the best thing for Dory that ever turned
up." For her part, she could not, after all, rid her mind of the
apprehension that her father might possibly have been in as serious
extremity as his letter represented. And if so, and she neglected to
do her utmost to succor him in his need, what peace could she ever