Edith, in a tone half of love, half of vexation.

"I have been detained," said Marian, in a low voice.

The cottage room was very inviting. The evening was just chilly enough
to make the bright little wood fire agreeable. On the clean hearth
before it sat the tea-pot and a covered plate of toast waiting for
Marian. And old Jenny got up and sat out a little stand, covered it with
a white napkin, and put the tea and toast, with the addition of a piece
of cold chicken and a saucer of preserves, upon it. And Marian laid off
her straw bonnet and muslin scarf and sat down and tried to eat, for
affectionate eyes had already noticed the trouble of her countenance,
and were watching her now with anxiety.

"You do not seem to have an appetite, dear; what is the matter?" asked
Edith.

"I am not very well," said Marian, rising and leaving the table, and
refraining with difficulty from bursting into tears.

"It's dat ar cussed infunnelly party at Lockemup--last Toosday!" said
Jenny, as she cleared away the tea service--"a-screwin' up tight in
cusseds an' ball-dresses! an' a-dancing all night till broad daylight!
'sides heavin' of ever so much unwholesome 'fectionery trash down her
t'roat--de constitution ob de United States hisself couldn't stan' sich!
much less a delicy young gall! I 'vises ov you, honey, to go to bed."

"Indeed, Marian, it was too much for you to lose your rest all night,
and then have to get up early to go to school. You should have had a
good sleep this morning. And then to be detained so late this evening.
Did you have to keep any of the girls in, or was it a visit from the
trustees that detained you?"

"Neither," said Marian, nervously, "but I think I must take Jenny's
advice and go to bed."

CHAPTER XVIII.

THAT NIGHT.

From that miserable night, Marian saw no more of Thurston, except
occasionally at church, when he came at irregular intervals, and
maintained the same coolness and distance of manner toward her, and with
matchless self-command, too, since often his heart yearned toward her
with almost irresistible force.

Cold and calm as was his exterior, he was suffering not less than
Marian; self-tossed with passion, the strong currents and
counter-currents of his soul whirled as a moral maelstrom, in which
both reason and conscience threatened to be engulfed.

And in these mental conflicts judgment and understanding were often
obscured and bewildered, and the very boundaries of righ