know how I felt. It seemed, too, that it was sheer boldness on my part
to dream for a moment that Louis spoke of life's crowning love. He meant
to be as a brother to me, and again I sighed, as I stood at the ironing
table, "Ah, Emily Minot, you are a born mistake, that's just what you
are!" and as I sighed I spoke these words, and, turning, found myself
face to face with Louis, who had just come from the village. He never
could wait for the stage to come, and had been over as usual for
letters.

"The only mistake is that you don't know yourself," he said.

And the tears that had welled up to my eyes fell so fast, and I was so
choked, that I turned from work, thinking to escape into mother's
bedroom and hide myself; but my eye caught sight of a letter in his hand
unopened, and love for Hal rose above all my foolish tears, and so I
stood quietly waiting the denouement.

"Come into the other room with me, Emily; I have something to tell you."

He sat down on the little chintz-covered lounge, and I beside him.

"Emily, you are a strong woman, your heart will beat fast, but you will
neither scream nor faint when I tell you; your brother is ill. There was
a letter in the office and also a telegram at the depot. What will be
done, who can go to him?"

I did not scream or faint as he had said, but I clasped my hands tightly
and shut my eyes as if some terrible sight was before me, while my poor
heart grieved and brain reeled, as I thought, "Oh! he will die, poor
Hal! alone among strangers, and how would our patient mother bear it,