, she had never been with any one that died, and she prayed
the good God never to let her be.

"You'll have to be with one person that dies, Bettina. That's yourself.
You know it's got to come. We've all got to go out at that gate," and I
moaned, and turned my face away.

"Let me call Mr. Richard," said Bettina, very much afraid. I would have
given all the world to have seen Richard then; but I knew it was
impossible, and I said, No, it would soon be morning.

Long before morning, I heard Richard up and walking about the house. We
were to leave the house at half-past four. By four, all the trunks, and
shawls, and packages, were strapped and ready, and I was sitting
dressed, and waiting by the window.

Bettina liked very much better to pack trunks, and put rooms in order,
than to sit still and hold a person's hot hands, in the middle of the
night, and have dreadful questions asked her; and she had been very
active and efficient. Soon Richard called her to come down and take my
breakfast up to me. I could not eat it, and it was taken away. Then the
carriage came, and the wagon to take the baggage. Finally, Richard came,
and told me it was time to start, if I were ready.

Sophie came into the room in a wrapper, looking very dutiful and
patient, and said all that was dutiful and civil. But I suppose I was a
fiery trial to her, and she wished, no doubt, that she had never seen
me, or better, that Richard never had. All this I felt, through her
decently framed good-bye, but I did not care at all; to be out of her
sight as soon as possible, was all that I requested.

When we went down in the hall, Richard looked anxiously at me, but I did
not feel as if I had ever been there before; I really had no feeling. I
said good-bye to Bettina, who was the only servant that I saw, and
Richard put me into the carriage. When, we drove away, I did not even
look back. As we passed out of the gate, I said to him, "What day of the
month is it to-day?"

"It is the first of September," he returned.

"And when did I come here?" I asked.

"Early in June, was it not?" he said. "You know I was not here."

"Then it is not three months," and I leaned back wearily in the
carriage, and was silent.

Before we reached the city, Richard had good reason to think that I was
very ill. He made me as comfortable as he could, poor fellow! but I was
so restless, I could not keep in one position two minutes at a time.
Several times I turned to him an