plain so long as any expression gave life to her features. In perfect
repose, her face, a little prematurely touched by sad experiences,--for
she was but seventeen years old,--had the character and decision stamped
in its outlines which any young man who wanted a companion to warn, to
comfort, and command him, might have depended on as warranting the
courage, the sympathy, and the sense demanded for such a responsibility.
She had been trying her powers of consolation on Miss Silence. It was a
sudden freak of Myrtle's. She had gone off on some foolish but innocent
excursion. Besides, she was a girl that would take care of herself; for
she was afraid of nothing, and nimbler than any boy of her age, and
almost as strong as any. As for thinking any bad thoughts about her,
that was a shame; she cared for none of the young fellows that were round
her. Cyprian Eveleth was the one she thought most of; but Cyprian was as
true as his sister Olive, and who else was there?

To all this Miss Silence answered only by sighing and moaning, For two
whole days she had been kept in constant fear and worry, afraid every
minute of some tragical message, perplexed by the conflicting advice of
all manner of officious friends, sleepless of course through the two
nights, and now utterly broken down and collapsed.

Bathsheba had said all she could in the way of consolation, and hastened
back to her mother's bedside, which she hardly left, except for the
briefest of visits.

"It's a great trial, Miss Withers, that's laid on you," said Nurse Byloe.

"If I only knew that she was dead, and had died in the Lord," Miss
Silence answered,--"if I only knew that but if she is living in sin, or
dead in wrong--doing, what is to become of me?--Oh, what is to become of