, but could mot see to take her stitches or
thread her needle for the blinding tears.

She put on her hat and a veil to hide her tear-stained face and swollen
eyes, stole quietly down-stairs and out into the grounds, where she
wandered about solitary and sad.

Everywhere she missed Edward; she could think of nothing but him and his
displeasure, and her heart was filled with sad forebodings for the future.
Would he ever, ever love and be kind to her again?

After a while she crept back to her apartments, taking care to avoid
meeting any one.

But Elsie was there looking for her. The children's lesson hours were
over, they were going for a drive, and hoped Zoe would go along.

"Thank you, mamma, but I do not care to go to-day," Zoe answered in a
choking voice, and turned away to hide her tears.

"My dear child, my dear, foolish little girl!" Elsie said, putting her
arms around her, "why should you grieve so? Ned will soon be at home
again, if all goes well. He is not very far away, and if you should be
taken ill, or need him very much for any reason, a telegram would bring
him to you in a few hours."

"But he went away without kissing me good-by; he didn't kiss me last night
or this morning." The words were on the tip of Zoe's tongue, but she held
them back, and answered only with fresh tears and sobs.

"I'm afraid you are not well, dear," Elsie said. "What can I do for you?"

"Nothing, thank you, mamma. I didn't sleep quite so well as usual last
night, and my head aches. I'll lie down and try to get a nap."

"Do, dear, and I hope it will relieve the poor head. As you are a healthy
little body, I presume the pain has been brought on merely by loss of
sleep and crying. I think Edward must not leave you for so long a time
again. Would you like mamma to stay with you, darling?" she asked, with a
motherly caress.

Zoe declined the offer; she would be more likely to sleep if quite alone;
and Elsie withdrew after seeing her comfortably established upon the bed.

"Strange," she said to herself as she passed on through the upper hall and
down the broad staircase into the lower one, "it can hardly be that
Edward's absence alone can distress her so greatly. I fear there is some
misunderstanding between them. I think I must telegraph for Edward if she
continues so inconsolable. His wife's health and happiness are of far more
consequence than any business matter. But I shall consult papa first, of
course."

She went in