e anywhere." And she shivered, and hid her
face on the pillow as another peal broke over the house.

Bessie did not speak for a minute, and then she said very tenderly:

"Edna, dear, I know all about it. I am quite sure that you are
miserable; I have known it all the time. Pride does not help you a bit
now; in your heart you are sorrowful and repentant. You would give all
you have in the world to bring him back again."

But Edna silenced her. "Don't, Bessie, you are torturing me. I cannot
bear sympathy; it seems to madden me somehow. I want people to think I
don't care--that it is all nothing to me."

"Ah, but you do care, Edna."

"Yes, I know I do," in a despairing voice. "I will own, if you like,
that I am very miserable, but you must not take advantage of me. I am
weak to-night, and I seem to have no strength to brave it out. Don't be
hard upon me, Bessie; you have never been in trouble yourself. You
cannot put yourself in my place."

A great pity rose in Bessie's heart as she listened to Edna's sad voice.
"No," she said gently, "I have never known real trouble, thank God,
except when Frank died. Mine has been a very happy life; but trouble may
come to me one day."

"Yes, but not through your own fault," replied Edna, in the same dreary
hopeless voice. "There is no trouble so hard to bear as that. To think
that I might have been so happy, and that my own temper has spoiled it
all. Let me tell you all about it, Bessie; it will be a relief, even
though you cannot help me, for to-night the misery is more than I can
bear." And here she hid her face in her hands, and gave vent to a few
choking sobs.

Bessie only answered by a quiet caress or two, and after a few moments
Edna recovered herself.

"I was unreasonably angry with Neville that day, but I never guessed
that my passion would overmaster me to that extent. Oh, Bessie! why, why
was I never taught to control my temper? Why was my mother so cruelly
kind to me? If I had been brought up differently--but no, I will only
reproach myself. If Neville had been more masterful--if he had shown
more spirit; but there again I am ungenerous, for nothing could exceed
his gentleness; but it only exasperated me. I was bent on quarrelling
with him, and I fully succeeded; and I worked myself up to such a pitch
that I almost hated the sight of him. I wanted to be free--I would be
free; and I told him so. I was still in the same mind when you brought
me that message, but, all