somewhat dry, Leo made almost her first purchase in the
neighbouring town. She procured a wash--only a simple, vegetable
concoction, but it answered the purpose--and there were great results.

Next, a manicure box which was among her possessions, but had lain about
unused after it ceased to be a novelty, was brought into play. To
confess the truth, Leo's hands were not her strong point, but hands and
fingers can look better or worse according to the care bestowed on
them, and there was now at least nothing to be ashamed of when she put
on her rings. She began to wear her rings regularly.

And searching about for something else to do, she unearthed some weird
implements, the sight of which made her laugh. With what zest she had
once thrown herself into the new game of physical culture which all her
friends were playing, and what fun she had thought it--for a time! Her
supple joints had enabled her to accomplish feats beyond the reach of
most, and she had attended drilling-classes and fencing-classes, and
gained glory at both. She now fixed up a hook or two in her room, and
found she could still do this and that, though she had lost the knack of
the more difficult. To regain these, ropes and pulleys were worked
vigorously,--and being once started, invention was called to aid, and
there were all sorts of varied performances. Finally she volunteered to
become a teacher; but though Maud and Sybil condescended so far as to
look on, and even make a few half-hearted efforts, they were soon
discouraged. They were not clumsy, but they were stiff; their bones were
set; beside them Leo seemed to be made of elastic.

These trifles were, as we have said, the solace of our little girl's
happier moods--at least they did something towards whiling away the
uneventful days,--but perhaps they might almost have been better left
undone, since the more healthful and beautiful she became, the more the
leaven of rebellious discontent worked within.

It seemed a shame that she should be so strong and well and winsome, and
there be nothing and no one to win. It was an injustice, a waste. And
was it to go on for ever? Was she to go on through a long, long
life--life stretches very far ahead at twenty-one--crawling on her hands
and knees, when she could have stepped out so boldly, head in air?

That was the question which chiefly presented itself to Leonore's mind,
as the first long year of her widowhood drew towards its close. She had
never on