death with all you
have gone through,--not being an old woman and seasoned to it like
me," went on the good creature, and she patted Phillis's cheek
encouragingly as she spoke.

"But how is she? Oh, thank God, the storm has lulled at last!"
exclaimed the girl, breathlessly.

"Oh, yes; the storm is over. We have reason to dread storms in this
house," returned Miss Mewlstone, gravely. "She was quite exhausted,
and let Charlotte and me help her to bed. Now she has had her
composing-draught, and Charlotte will sit by her till I go up. I
always watch by her all night after one of these attacks."

"Is it a nervous attack?" asked Phillis, timidly, for she felt she was
treading on delicate ground.

"I believe Dr. Parkes calls it hysteria," replied Miss Mewlstone,
hesitating a little. "Ah, we have sad times with her. You heard what
she said, poor dear: she has been sorely tried."

"Was not her husband good to her, then?"

"I am sure he meant to be kind," returned Miss Mewlstone, sorrowfully,
"for he loved her dearly; but he was passionate and masterful, and was
one that would have his way. As long as it was only courtship, he
worshipped the ground she walked upon, as the saying is. But poor
Magdalene was not a good wife. She was cold when she ought to have
been caressing, stubborn when she might have yielded; and sarcasm
never yet healed a wound. Ah, here comes your coffee! Thank you,
Evans. Now, my dear, you must just eat and drink, and put some color
into those pale cheeks. Scenes like these are not good for young
creatures like you. But when Magdalene is in these moods, she would
not care if the whole world listened to her. To-morrow she will be
herself, and remember and be ashamed; and then you must not mind if
she be harder and colder than ever. She will say bitter things all the
more, because she is angered at her own want of self-control."

"I can understand that: that is just as I should feel," returned
Phillis, shuddering a little at the idea of encountering Mrs. Cheyne's
keen-edged sarcasms. "She will not like to see me any more; she will
think I had no right to witness such a scene."

"It is certainly a pity that I wrote that note," returned Mrs.
Mewlstone, reflectively. "I hoped that you would turn her thoughts,
and that we might avert the usual nervous paroxysm. When I opened the
door and saw you sitting together so peacefully beside the children's
beds, I expected a milder mood; but it was the thunder. P