rdered baronet, in one of these strange and unseasonable
visits to the scene of the fearful catastrophe.

In addition to all this, Marston's conduct towards his wife became
strangely capricious. He avoided her society more than ever; and when he
did happen to exchange a few words with her, they were sometimes harsh
and violent, and at others remorsefully gentle and sad, and this without
any changes of conduct upon her part to warrant the wayward uncertainty
of his treatment. Under all these circumstances, Mrs. Marston's
unhappiness and uneasiness greatly increased. Mademoiselle de Barras,
too, upon several late occasions, had begun to assume a tone of authority
and dictation, which justly offended the mistress of the establishment.
Meanwhile Charles Marston had returned to Cambridge; and Rhoda, no longer
enjoying happy walks with her brother, pursued her light and easy studies
with Mademoiselle de Barras, and devoted her leisure hours to the loved
society of her mother.

One day Mrs. Marston, sitting in her room with Rhoda, had happened to
call her own maid, to take down and carefully dust some richly bound
volumes which filled a bookcase in the little chamber.

"You have been crying, Willett," said Mrs. Marston, observing that the
young woman's eyes were red and swollen.

"Indeed, and I was, ma'am," she replied, reluctantly, "and I could not
help it, so I could not."

"Why, what has happened to vex you? Has anyone ill-treated you?" said
Mrs. Marston, who had an esteem for the poor girl. "Come, come, you must
not fret about it; only tell me what has vexed you."

"Oh! Ma'am, no one has ill-used me, ma'am; but I can't but be vexed
sometimes, ma'am, and fretted to see how things is going on. I have
one wish, just one wish, ma'am, and if I got that, I'd ask no more,"
said the girl.

"And what is it?" asked Mrs. Marston; "what do you wish for? Speak
plainly, Willett; what is it?"

"Ah! Ma'am, if I said it, maybe you might not be pleased. Don't ask me,
ma'am," said the girl dusting the books very hard, and tossing them down
again with angry emphasis. "I don't desire anybody's harm, God knows;
but, for all that, I wish what I wish, and that is the truth."

"Why, Willett, I really cannot account for your strange habit of lately
hinting, and insinuating, and always speaking riddles, and refusing to
explain your meaning. What do you mean? Speak plainly. If there are any
dishonest practices going on, it is your duty to s