sease now constantly
ruffled the sweet flow of spirits which once was habitual with
her. Nothing ruffled his; and his soothing hand could always
quiet her, could almost always make her happy, when it was
practicable for him to spare time. Very often when he had no
time to give beyond what a word or a look would take from his
business. But those times were comparatively few. He was apt
to give her what she needed, and make up for it afterwards at
the cost of rest and sleep when Winnie was abed. Through the
warm summer days he took her daily and twice daily walks, down
to the Green where the sea air could blow in her face fresh
from its own quarter, where she and he too could turn their
backs upon brickwork and pavement and look on at least one
face of nature unspotted and unspoiled. At home he read to
her, and with her, the times when he used to read the
classics; and many other times; he talked to her and he played
with her, having bought a second-hand backgammon board for the
very purpose; he heard her and set her her lessons; and he
amused her with all the details of his daily business and
experience that he could make amusing.

If these things were a charge, it was one for which he was
abundantly rewarded, every night and every morning, and knew
it. But the other part of the burden, the drain upon his
purse, was not so easily to be met withal. There was no
helping it. Winnie's state of health made her simple wants,
simple as they were, far more costly than his own had been;
and he would and did supply them. He could bear to starve
himself and lie hard; but Winnie would very soon starve to
death; and the time when she could sleep softly on a hard bed
had once been, but would never be again, literally or
figuratively. Winthrop never shewed her how it was with him;
not the less it was almost the ebb; and whence the flow was to
come, was a point he saw not. He was not yet admitted to
practise law; his slender means were almost all gathered from
teaching; and he could not teach any more than he did. And
this consciousness he carried about with him, to the office,
to market, and to his little sister's presence. For her his
face was always the same; and while she had it Winnie thought
little was wanting to her life.

One morning when she had it not, she was lying wearily
stretched out on the couch which was hers by day and
Winthrop's by night. It was early June; the sun was paying his
first instalment of summer heat,