he was dead; anyhow,
it was only a miracle which could ever restore him to those who mourned
for him. He had joined that troop of phantom children who come to us in
our lonely hours, saying, "We are nothing, less than nothing, and
dreams. We are only what might have been, and must wait upon the tedious
shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence and a name."

Meanwhile she lived very much as other people live, and grew prettier
every day, gaining beauty in the sad and dreamy peace of her daily life.
Calm will work wonders for a woman who has been fretted and worried for
years, and this is the reason why some are far more beautiful in their
autumn than in their summer or their spring.

The shade of melancholy, which always hung over Elsie now, added a new
charm to her face. In her girlhood she had been too eager, too vivid;
she had lacked the subtle sweetness of repose. People who met her
nowadays invariably noticed her tranquillity: some envied, and all
admired it.

She made acquaintances, and went out sometimes, and wherever she went
she left an impression. If she was a trifle too indifferent to please
everybody, she seldom made an enemy. Women instinctively understood that
she did not want to be their rival. Men felt that the gentle
unconsciousness, which nullified their pretty speeches, was really the
result of preoccupation. She was always gracious, always kind; but no
one could ever get very near to her heart.

She went often to sit with Mrs. Beaton in the little parlour behind the
shop. Here there was real work to be done--the quiet work of cheering an
old woman who had never known a daughter's love. Sometimes the blessing
withheld in youth is granted in old age. Mrs. Beaton had received much
from Meta, but Meta had been worn with the warfare of a hard life. Elsie
had more leisure to give her a daughter's tenderness.

Andrew Beaton had strained every nerve, but had found no trace of the
missing boy. He had been to Lee, and had seen Dennett, the green-grocer,
and his wife, and had satisfied himself that they were seldom sober
enough to attend to anything. Poor Mrs. Penn's habit of intemperance had
been strengthened by her connection with these people. Andrew gave up
the Dennetts and Mrs. Penn as a hopeless set.

Spring days grew warmer and brighter; shop-windows were gay with all the
colours of the rainbow; women moved about in pretty, delicate dresses,
looking like animated flowers.

Miss Sa