han my own.
The agitation was growing too much for her, and would end in an access
of her disease. I must put an end to it at once.

"I suppose Julia is gone to the new house now," I said, in a calm voice.

"Yes," she answered, but she could say no more.

"And Miss Daltrey with her?" I pursued.

The mention of that name certainly roused my mother more effectually
than any thing else I could have said. She released me from her clinging
hands, and looked up with a decided expression of dislike on her face.

"Yes," she replied. "Julia is just wrapped up in her, though why I
cannot imagine. So is your father. But I don't think you will like her,
Martin. I don't want you to be taken with her."

"I won't, mother," I said. "I am ready to hate her, if that is any
satisfaction to you."

"Oh, you must not say that," she answered, in a tone of alarm. "I do not
wish to set you against her, not in the least, my boy. Only she has so
much influence over Julia and your father; and I do not want you to go
over to her side. I know I am very silly; but she always makes my flesh
creep when she is in the room."

"Then she shall not come into the room," I said.

"Martin," she went on, "why does it rouse one up more to speak evil of
people than to speak good of them? Speaking of Kate Daltrey makes me
feel stronger than talking of Olivia."

I laughed a little. It had been an observation of mine, made some years
ago, that the surest method of consolation in cases of excessive grief,
was the introduction of some family or neighborly gossip, seasoned
slightly with scandal. The most vehement mourning had been turned into
another current of thought by the lifting of this sluice.

"It restores the balance of the emotions," I answered. "Anything soft,
and tender, and touching, makes you more sensitive. A person like Miss
Daltrey acts as a tonic; bitter, perhaps, but invigorating."

The morning passed without any interruption; but in the afternoon Grace
came in, with a face full of grave importance, to announce that Miss
Dobree had called, and desired to see Mrs. Dobree alone. "Quite alone,"
repeated Grace, emphatically.

"I'll go up-stairs to my own room," I said to my mother.

"I am afraid you cannot, Martin," she answered, hesitatingly. "Miss
Daltrey has taken possession of it, and she has not removed all her
things yet. She and Julia did not leave till late last night. You must
go to the spare room."

"I thought you would have ke