d with an unbeliever.

The village clock recalled him from that dismal reverie. He had a call
to make at the Marlakes'; the children were all three sick. Kate
Marlake had been a Grayland, and her sister Stella was recently come
to stay with her through that trying time. Lawrence gave one of the
children a soothing potion, and said he would wait to see the effect.
He went down-stairs, and Kate sent Stella to keep him company.
She asked him about the children, and he explained to her the
"self-limited" character of the disease and the necessity that they
should grow worse before they could be better, but assured her there
was no present cause for alarm. And while he thus reassured her, she
was unconsciously exerting a more powerful influence upon him. Her
steady, balanced carriage, her quiet, straight, brief questions, her
direct glance, her strong but controlled interest, the simple grace
with which she sat afterward, altogether affected him with a great
tenderness, mingled with despair. Why could not Cora be like that? Was
it so hard to be simple, gracious, modestly satisfied? It seemed very
easy in Stella's presence. She did not say much; her words were fit
and sincere, to be sure, but simple and few, and as like as not to end
with a depreciating, low, lapsing laugh. But somehow she made all
brave and gentle and generous things seem easy and very desirable.
Lawrence looked up from his abstraction and found her watching him.

"Don't you miss your music?" he asked.

"Well," she answered, with her low laugh, "it would hardly be gracious
to say I do, when Kate needs me so badly,--and hardly true to say no."

Lawrence recalled a remark of Dr. Kane's;--how when, on one of his
voyages, in their ice-girt winter quarters, the whole ship's company,
save himself, were prostrate below decks, and he with incredible
strength and fortitude was literally doing everything, not even
omitting to register regular observations of the instruments;--in the
midst of that unsurpassable heroism among the polar solitudes, he felt
at night a dissatisfaction with the day as having been spent to
little purpose worthy of his powers.

Stella listened, and was still a moment before she answered:

"Yes, I can understand that."

That was it. She could understand. She knew what he was talking about;
she knew and cared. He had always remarked her peculiarly melodious,
low voice; he thought now he had never heard one so expressive. It was
never eit