articles upon her table always
ready to her hand; a certain number of things to do, each at the
appointed hour; the slender refreshments it was necessary for her to
take, in which there was a little exquisite variety--but never any change
in the fact that at eleven and at three and so forth something had to be
taken. Had a woman wanted to abandon the peaceful life which was thus
supported and carried on, the very framework itself would have resisted.
It was impossible (almost) to contemplate the idea that at a given moment
the whole machinery must stop. She was neither without heart nor without
religion, but on the contrary a good woman, to whom many gentle thoughts
had been given at various portions of her career. But the occasion
seemed to have passed for that as well as other kinds of emotion. The
mere fact of living was enough for her. The little exertion which it was
well she was required to make produced a pleasant weariness. It was a
duty much enforced upon her by all around her, that she should do nothing
which would exhaust or fatigue. "I don't want you to think," even the
doctor would say; "you have done enough of thinking in your time." And
this she accepted with great composure of spirit. She had thought and
felt and done much in her day; but now everything of the kind was over.
There was no need for her to fatigue herself; and day followed day, all
warm and sheltered and pleasant. People died, it is true, now and then,
out of doors; but they were mostly young people, whose death might have
been prevented had proper care been taken,--who were seized with violent
maladies, or caught sudden infections, or were cut down by accident; all
which things seemed natural. Her own contemporaries were very few, and
they were like herself--living on in something of the same way. At
eighty-five all people under seventy are young; and one's contemporaries
are very, very few.

Nevertheless these men did disturb her a little about her will. She had
made more than one will in the former days during her active life; but
all those to whom she had bequeathed her possessions were dead. She had
survived them all, and inherited from many of them; which had been a hard
thing in its time. One day the lawyer had been more than ordinarily
pressing. He had told her stories of men who had died intestate, and left
trouble and penury behind them to those whom they would have most wished
to preserve from all trouble. It would not have