ought of the errand upon which he had come. It
would not do to leave the subject of his vivisection under any illusion
as to the nature of his designs.

"Good evening, Miss Badlam," he said, "I have come to visit you on a
matter of business."

What was the internal panorama which had unrolled itself at the instant
of his entrance, and which rolled up as suddenly at the sound of
his serious voice and the look of his grave features? It cannot be
reproduced, though pages were given to it; for some of the pictures were
near, and some were distant; some were clearly seen, and some were only
hinted; some were not recognized in the intellect at all, and yet they
were implied, as it were, behind the others. Many times we have all
found ourselves glad or sorry, and yet we could not tell what thought it
was that reflected the sunbeam or cast the shadow. Took into Cynthia's
suddenly exalted consciousness and see the picture, actual and
potential, unroll itself in all its details of the natural, the
ridiculous, the selfish, the pitiful, the human. Glimpses, hints,
echoes, suggestions, involving tender sentiments hitherto unknown, we
may suppose, to that unclaimed sister's breast,--pleasant excitement
of receiving congratulations from suddenly cordial friends; the fussy
delights of buying furniture and shopping for new dresses,--(it seemed
as if she could hear herself saying, "Heavy silks,--best goods, if you
please,")--with delectable thumping down of flat-sided pieces of calico,
cambric, "rep," and other stiffs, and rhythmic evolution of measured
yards, followed by sharp snip of scissors, and that cry of rending
tissues dearer to woman's ear than any earthly sound until she hears
the voice of her own first-born,(much of this potentially,
remember,)--thoughts of a comfortable settlement, an imposing social
condition, a cheerful household, and by and by an Indian summer of
serene widowhood,--all these, and infinite other involved possibilities
had mapped themselves in one long swift flash before Cynthia's inward
eye, and all vanished as the old man spoke those few words. The look on
his face, and the tone of his cold speech, had instantly swept them all
away, like a tea-set sliding in a single crash from a slippery tray.

What could be the "business" on which he had come to her with that
solemn face?--she asked herself, as she returned his greeting and
offered him a chair. She was conscious of a slight tremor as she put
this ques