ost
in the teeth of the wind, which blew a gale, drenching her clothes in
spite of all efforts to protect herself by means of an umbrella. Her
feet and ankles were wet by the time she reached Mrs. Lowe's, and the
lower parts of her dress and under-clothing saturated to a depth of ten
or twelve inches.

"I expected you half an hour ago," said the lady, in a coldly polite
way, as Miss Carson entered her presence.

"The morning was dark and I overslept myself," was the only reply.

Mrs. Lowe did not remark upon the condition of Mary's clothing and
feet. That was a matter of no concern to her. It was a seamstress, not
a human being, that was before her--a machine, not thing of sensation.
So she conducted her to a room in the third story, fronting east,
against the cloudy and misty windows of which the wind and rain were
driving. There was a damp, chilly feeling in the air of this room. Mrs.
Lowe had a knit shawl drawn around her shoulders; but Mary, after
removing her bonnet and cloak, had no external protection for her chest
beyond the closely fitting body of her merino dress. Her feet and hands
felt very cold, and she had that low shuddering, experienced when one
is inwardly chilled.

Mrs. Lowe was ready for her seamstress. There were the materials to
make half a dozen dresses for Angela and Grace, and one of the little
Misses was called immediately, and the work of selecting and cutting a
body pattern commenced, Mrs. Lowe herself superintending the operation,
and embarrassing Mary at the start with her many suggestions. Nearly an
hour had been spent in this way, when the breakfast bell rang. It was
after eight o'clock. Without saying anything to Mary, Mrs. Lowe and the
child they had been fitting, went down stairs. This hour had been one
of nervous excitement to Mary Carson. Her cheeks were hot--burning as
if a fire shone upon them--but her cold hands, and wet, colder feet,
sent the blood in every returning circle, robbed of warmth to the
disturbed heart.

It was past nine o'clock when a servant called Mary to breakfast. As
she arose from her chair, she felt a sharp stitch in her left side; so
sharp, that she caught her breath in half inspirations, two or three
times, before venturing on a full inflation of the lungs. She was, at
the same time, conscious of an uncomfortable tightness across the
chest. The nausea, and loathing of food, which had given place soon
after her arrival at Mrs. Lowe's to a natural craving