na High-Churchman and the Vermont Calvinist were agreed in this.
Mistakes were plenty, of course; but when once they had been made, there
was no remedy in this life; of this she was sure. But how if one
happened to be bound upon the rack meanwhile--a woman whom one loved?

The dress-maker, after looking at Margaret again, went off to a dark
corner to "offer prayer." But for the first time in her life she found
no words ready; what, indeed, should she pray for? That Margaret might
die? She was too fond of her for that. That Lanse might be taken? That
had a murderous sound, even if you called it "taken." That Margaret's
love might cease? But she knew very well that it would not. So all she
said was, "O Lord, _help_ her!" very fervently. Then she got up, and set
about applying restoratives.

A week later, when Margaret had left her room for the first time,
Celestine, at work there, restoring for her own satisfaction that
speckless order in which her soul delighted, found upon the hearth,
mixed with the ashes, some burned bent metal fragments that had once
been gilded--the top of a little frame; she knew then that the last
sacrifice had been accomplished. A small one, a detail; but to women the
details are hardest.

The Doctor had kept Winthrop strictly informed of Mrs. Harold's health.
At first the letters were all the same. But after a while he had written
that he was glad to say that she was better. For a long time to come,
however (he added), any over-pressure would be sure to exhaust her, and
then, in case of a second attack, he should not be able to answer for
the consequences. Later he wrote that Mrs. Harold's strength would not
now be taxed by any more "untoward interruptions;" she had made her
intended journey to Fernandina, he was glad to say, and had returned in
safety, Mr. Harold having returned with her. Everything was now
comfortably arranged at East Angels; Mr. Harold had the west rooms, and
the men he had brought with him--he had three at present--seemed to
understand their duties fairly well. Mr. Harold was carried every
evening into Mrs. Rutherford's sitting-room, which was an agreeable
change for all. Mrs. Rutherford herself had improved wonderfully since
her nephew's arrival.

Concerning these letters of his to Evert Winthrop the Doctor felt such a
deep sense of responsibility that, short as they were, he wrote them and
rewrote them, inspecting each phrase from every possible point of view
before his