fertile in invention, so brave in
execution: what should he have done without me? I repeated his words to
myself till they lost all their meaning; they were only replete with
blissful content, and filled me with their music till I dropped asleep
for very weariness in saying them over.

The next morning, before I waked, George Hammond had gone. He had left
for Catlettsburg to direct the new hands. The works lay idle, the men
(those who had been dismissed) lounged around gloomy and sullen, and so
passed the week. Then came the news that Mr. Hammond and Tom Salyers had
gone to Cincinnati, and would not return for the present, and that such
men as were satisfied with the former wages were to be put to work
again. Readily did the miners come back to their duty, all but a few of
the Sandy men, who returned to their own homes, and all fell into the
usual train.

And I? There was first the calm sense of happy security, then the
impatience to test again its reality, then the longing homesickness of
the heart. As weeks passed on and I saw nothing of him, as I heard of
his protracted stay, as I saw Miss Hammond make her preparations to join
him, as I watched the boat which carried her away, my sense of
loneliness became too heavy for me, and the same pillow on which I had
known those happy slumbers was wet with tears of bitter despondency.

And yet I understood neither the happiness nor the tears. I did not know
(how should I?) what were the new feelings which made my heart beat at
George Hammond's name. I did not know why I yearned towards his sister
with a warmth of love that would fain show itself in kindly word or
deed. I did not know why the news that he was coming again, which
greeted me after long weeks of weariness, brightened with joyful
radiance everything that I saw, and glorified the aspect of my little
garret, as I had seen a brilliant bunch of flowers glorify and refine
with a light of beauty the every-day ugliness of our sitting-room.

I sang my merriest songs that night, and my feet kept time to their
music in almost dancing measures. The next day, yes, by noon, he would
be at home. I could see his boat land from my little window, and then,
giving Miss Hammond time to be safely housed, I would row myself over to
the store and meet him there. How much I should have to tell him, how
much to hear!

The morning came, and with it came a nervous bashfulness. I should never
dare to go over to see him. No, I would wa