anxious, almost frightened expression on her good-natured
countenance. She hurried up to Mrs. Cheyne and took her in her arms as
though she were a child.

"Now, Magdalene, now, my dear," she said, coaxingly, "you will try to
be good and command yourself before this young lady. Look at her: she
is not a bit afraid of the storm:--are you, Miss Challoner? No, just
so; you are far too sensible."

"Oh, that is what you always tell me," returned Mrs. Cheyne, wrenching
herself free with some violence. "Be sensible,--be good,--when I am
nearly mad with the oppression and suffocation, here, and here,"
pointing to her head and breast. "Commonplaces, commonplaces; as well
stop a deluge with a teacup. Oh, you are an old fool, Barby: you will
never learn wisdom."

"My poor lamb! Barby never minds one word you say when you are like
this."

"Oh, I will beg your pardon to-morrow, or when the thunder stops.
Hark! there it is again," cowering down in her chair. "Can't you pray
for it to cease, Barby? Oh, it is too horrible! Don't you recollect
the night he rode away,--right into the storm, into the very teeth of
the storm? 'Good-bye, Magdalene; who knows when we may meet again?'
and I never looked at him, never kissed him, never broke the silence
by one word; and the thunder came, and he was gone," beating the air
with her hands.

"Oh, hush, my dear, hush! Let me read to you a little, and the fever
will soon pass. You are frightening the poor young lady with your wild
talk, and no wonder!"

"Pshaw! who minds the girl? Let her go or stop; what do I care? What
is the whole world to me, when I am tormented like this? Three years,
four years--more than a thousand days--of this misery! Oh, Barby! do
you think I have been punished enough? do you think where he is, up in
heaven with the children, that he forgives and pities me, who was such
a bad wife to him?"

As Miss Mewlstone paused a moment to wipe the tears that were flowing
over her old cheeks, Phillis's voice came to her relief.

"Oh, can you doubt it?" she said, in much agitation. "Dear Mrs.
Cheyne, can you have an instant's doubt? Do you think the dead carry
all these paltry earthly feelings into the bright place yonder?
Forgive you--oh, there is no need of forgiveness there; he will only
be loving you,--he and the children too."

"God bless you!" whispered Miss Mewlstone. "Hush, that is enough! Go,
my dear, go, and I will come to you presently. Magdalene, put your
poor he