re very kind,
but I would rather be left alone."

"But it must be so sad for you to be alone in your sorrow," said her
neighbor.

"No. I can bear sorrow better alone," said the newly made widow.
"Perhaps I am peculiar, but I would prefer it."

"If you really wish it," said the other, reluctantly.

"Yes, I wish it. Thank you for your kind offer, but I know my own
feelings, and the presence of others would only increase my pain."

This was what she said to others who made the same offer. It did not
excite great surprise, for Mrs. Preston had never leaned upon anyone
for sympathy, nor was she ready with her sympathy when others were in
trouble. She was self-poised and self-contained, and, in fact, for
this reason was not popular with her neighbors. Still, in this her
distress they were ready to forget all this and extend the same
cordial sympathy which they would have done in other cases. There was
but one person whose company she did crave at this time and this was
her son, Godfrey. So, when Alfred Turner offered to go for him the
next morning, she accepted his offer with thanks.

At last she was left alone. The servant had gone to bed, and there was
no one but herself and her dead husband in the lower part of the
house. She no longer sat with her handkerchief pressed before her
eyes. Her face wore its usual look of calm composure. She was busily
thinking, not of her husband's fate, but of her own future.

"Did he leave a will? And, if so, how much did he leave me?" she
thought.

If there was a will, it was probably in the house, and Mrs. Preston
determined to find it, if possible.

"Of course, all ought to come to me and Godfrey," she soliloquized. "I
don't think it is right to leave money to charitable institutions as
long as a wife and child are living. Fortunately, my husband had no
brothers or sisters, or perhaps he would have divided the property. If
there is no will, I shall have my thirds, and shall have the control
of Godfrey's property till he comes of age. I think I will go to
Boston to live. My friend, Mrs. Boynton, has a very pleasant house on
Worcester Street. I should like to settle down somewhere near her. I
don't know how much Mr. Preston was worth, but I am sure we shall have
enough for that. I always wanted to live in the city. This village is
intolerably stupid, and so are the people. I shall be glad to get
away."

Could the good women, whose kind hearts had prompted them to proffer
their