eak, that he was struck
with the same sad change in me.

"Now no heroics, no scene," said the doctor; "say how do you do, and
shake hands, but not one bit of sentiment,--I forbid that entirely."

"My sister, my dear sister!" said Richard, bending down and kissing my
forehead. He reeled as he lifted his head, and would have fallen had not
Dr. Harlowe's strong arm supported him.

I longed to embrace him with all a sister's fondness, and pour out on
his bosom all my sorrow and my love; but the doctor was imperative, and
made him recline in an easy-chair by the bedside, threatening him with
instant dismission if he were not perfectly quiet and obedient. I saw
Richard start and shudder, as his eyes rested on my left arm, which hung
over the counterpane. The sleeve of my loose robe had slipped up, baring
the arm below the elbow. The start, the shudder, the look of anguish,
made me involuntarily raise it, and then I saw a scar, as of a recently
healed wound just below the elbow. I understood it all. The ball that
had penetrated his back, had passed through my arm, and thus prevented
it from reaching the citadel of life. That feeble arm had been his
safeguard and his shield; it had intercepted the bolt of death; it had
barricaded, as it were, the gates of hell.

Mrs. Linwood, who was standing by me, stooped down, kissed the scar, and
drew the sleeve gently over it. As she bowed her head, and I saw the
silver shadow on her late dark, brown hair, I felt how intense must have
been the suffering that wrought this wondrous change,--and I resolved to
bear unmurmuring my own sorrows, rather than add a feather's weight to
her burden of woe.

I remembered how the queenly locks of Marie Antoinette were whitened in
one night of agony. Perhaps my own dark tresses were crowned by
premature snow. I had not seen myself since the green of summer had
passed into the "sere and yellow leaf," and perhaps the blight of my
heart was visible on my brow. When I was alone with Edith, I surprised
her by asking if my hair were not white. She smiled, and bringing a
toilet glass, held it before me. What was my astonishment to see my hair
curling in short waves round my face, like the locks of childhood! And
such a face,--so white, so colorless. I hardly recognized myself, and
pushing back the glass, I burst into tears.

"Dear Gabriella!" said Edith, quite distressed, "I am sorry they cut off
your beautiful hair. But the doctor said it must be done. I