to get burned, one of these fine evenings, I won't answer for
the consequences. Good-bye," said he, shaking Ellen's hand;
"you needn't look sober about it; all you have to do is to let
your Mamma be as much like an oyster as possible; you
understand? Good-bye." And Dr. Green took his leave.

"Poor woman!" said the doctor to himself, as he went down
stairs (he was a humane man) — "I wonder if she'll live till
she gets to the other side! That's a nice little girl, too.
Poor child! poor child!"

Both mother and daughter silently acknowledged the justice of
the doctor's advice, and determined to follow it. By common
consent, as it seemed, each for several days avoided bringing
the subject of sorrow to the other's mind; though no doubt it
was constantly present to both. It was not spoken of; indeed,
little of any kind was spoken of, but that never. Mrs.
Montgomery was doubtless employed, during this interval, in
preparing for what she believed was before her; endeavouring
to resign herself and her child to Him in whose hands they
were, and struggling to withdraw her affections from a world
which she had a secret misgiving she was fast leaving. As for
Ellen, the doctor's warning had served to strengthen the
resolve she had already made, that she would not distress her
mother with the sight of her sorrow; and she kept it, as far
as she could. She did not let her mother see but very few
tears, and those were quiet ones; though she drooped her head
like a withered flower, and went about the house with an air
of submissive sadness, that tried her mother sorely. But when
she was alone, and knew no one could see, sorrow had its way;