ivering, notwithstanding her
shawl, and Nettie took up her needlework for the moment to distract
her thoughts. When Susan started from these snatches of slumber, she
importuned her sister with ceaseless questions and entreaties. Where had
he gone?--where did Nettie imagine he could have gone?--and oh! would
she go to the window and look out to see if any one was coming, or put
the candle to the window to guide him, if perhaps he might have lost the
way? At last the terrible pale dawn came in and took the light out of
Nettie's candle. The two looked at each other, and acknowledged with a
mutual start that the night was over. They had watched these long hours
through with sentiments very different; now a certain thrill of sympathy
drew Nettie nearer to her sister. It was daylight again, remorseless
and uncompromising, and where was Fred, who loved the darkness? He had
little money and less credit in the limited place where himself and his
story were known. What could have become of him? Nettie acknowledged
that there was ground for anxiety. She folded up her work and put out
her candle, and promptly took into consideration what she could do.

"If you will go to bed, Susan, I shall go out and look for him," said
Nettie. "He might have stumbled in the field and fallen asleep. Men have
done such things before now, and been none the worse for it. If you will
go and lie down, I'll see after it, Susan. Now it's daylight, you know,
no great harm can happen to him. Come and lie down, and leave me to look
for Fred."

"But you don't know where to go, and he won't like to have you going
after him. Nettie, send to Edward," said Susan; "he ought to come and
look after his brother: he ought to have done it all through, and not to
have left us to manage everything; and he hasn't even been to see us for
ever so long. But send to Edward, Nettie--it's his business. For Fred
won't like to have you going after him, and you don't know where to go."

"Fred must have me going after him whether he likes it or no," said
Nettie, sharply, "and I shall not send to Dr Edward. You choose to
insult him whenever you can, and then you think it is his business to
look after his brother. Go to bed, and leave it to me. I can't leave you
shivering here, to catch something, and be ill, and laid up for weeks. I
want to get my bonnet on, and to see you in bed. Make haste, and come
up-stairs with me."

Susan obeyed with some mutterings of inarticulate discont