le
work-table, and it fell. Her work-box flew open, and as they stooped to
pick up the articles, Arthur again wept without control as he took up a
little frock, half made, with the needle hanging to it. The table-drawer
had fallen out, and with it the large account-book, the weekly bills,
and a sheet of paper covered with figures, and blotted and blistered
with tears. The sight seemed to overwhelm him more than all. 'Crying
over these! My Violet crying! Oh! what have I been doing?'

'And why? What distressed her?'

'It was too much for her. She would plague herself with these wretched
household accounts! She knew I hated the sound of them. I never let
her bring them to me; but little did I think that she cried over them
alone!'

'She was cheerful with you?'

'Was not she?' I never saw that dear face without its sweet smile,
come when I would. I have never heard a complaint. I have left her to
herself, madman as I was, when she was unwell and anxious! But--oh! if
she could only recover, she should see--Ha! Sarah, can I come?'

'Yes, sir, she is asking for you; but, if you please, sir, Mr. Harding
says you must come very quiet. She seems wandering, and thinking you are
not come home, sir,' said Sarah, with a grisly satisfaction in dealing
her blow home.

John tried to rectify the confusion in the work-box with a sort of
reverential care; not able to bear to leave it in disorder, whether its
mistress were ever to open it again or not, yet feeling it an intrusion
to meddle with her little feminine hoards of precious trifles.

'Poor Arthur!' said he to himself, 'he may fairly be acquitted of
all but his usual inconsiderateness towards one too tender for such
treatment. He deserves more pity than blame. And for her--thank Heaven
for the blessing on them that mourn. Innocent creature, much will be
spared her; if I could but dwell on that rather than on the phantom
of delight she was, and my anticipations of again seeing the look that
recalls Helen. If Helen was here, how she would be nursing her!'

John saw his brother no more that evening--only heard of Violet 'as
barely kept alive, as it seemed, by his care.' Each report was such
that the next must surely be the last; and John sat waiting on till
his servant insisted on his going to bed, promising to call him if his
brother needed him.

The night passed without the summons, and in the morning there was still
life. John had been down-stairs for some little time, wh