She lived with me just
seven days, and then made way for another a little more tolerable
than herself.

CHAPTER XX.

A CURE FOR LOW SPIRITS.

FROM some cause, real or imaginary, I felt low spirited. There was a
cloud upon my feelings, and I could not smile as usual, nor speak in
a tone of cheerfulness. As a natural result, the light of my
countenance being gone, all things around me were in a shadow. My
husband was sober, and had but little to say; the children would
look strangely at me when I answered their questions or spoke to
them for any purpose, and the domestics moved about in a quiet
manner, and when they addressed me, did so in a tone more subdued
than usual.

This reaction upon my state, only made darker the clouds that veiled
my spirits. I was conscious of this, and was conscious that the
original cause of depression was entirely inadequate, in itself, to
produce the result which had followed. Under this feeling, I made an
effort to rally myself, but in vain--and sank lower from the
struggle to rise above the gloom that overshadowed me.

When my husband came home at dinner time, I tried to meet him with a
smile; but I felt that the light upon my countenance was feeble, and
of brief duration. He looked at me earnestly, and in his kind and
gentle way, enquired if I felt no better, affecting to believe that
my ailment was one of the body instead of the mind. But I scarcely
answered him, and I could see that he felt hurt. How, much more
wretched did I become at this? Could I have then retired to my
chamber, and alone given my heart full vent in a passion of tears, I
might have obtained relief to my feelings. But I could not do this.

While I sat at the table forcing a little food into my mouth for
appearance sake, my husband said:

"You remember the fine lad who has been with me for some time?"

I nodded my head, but the question did not awaken in my mind the
least interest.

"He has not made his appearance for several days; and I learned this
morning, on sending to the house of his mother, that he is very
ill."

"Ah!" was my indifferent response. Had I spoken, what was in my
mind, I would have said, "I'm sorry, but I can't help it." I did not
at the moment feel the smallest interest in the lad.

"Yes," added my husband, "and the person who called to let me know
about it, expressed his fears that Edward would not get up again."

"What ails him?" I enquired.

"I did not clearly understa