e, the
happiest of my life.

By what I then experienced I knew that our connection must be broken off
entirely. Half-way work had already been tried too long. Sitting by the
dead body of my mother, gazing upon that face which, ever since I could
remember, had reflected my own joys and sorrows, I resolved to decide
once for all upon my future course. I was without a single tie. In all
the wide world, not a person cared whether I lived or died. One part of
the wide world, then, was as good for me as another. There was but one
little spot where I must not remain; all the rest was free to me. I took
the map of the world. I was a little past thirty, healthy, and should
probably, accidents excepted, live out the time allotted to man. I
divided the land mapped out before me into fifteen portions. I would
live two years in each; then, being an old man, I would gradually draw
nearer to this forbidden "little spot," inquire what had become of the
Woods, and settle down in the same little house, patiently to await my
summons. My future life being thus all mapped out, I arose with calmness
to perform various little duties which yet remained to be done before
the funeral could take place.

Beautiful flowers were in the room; a few white ones were at my mother's
breast. Jane brought them. She had done everything, and I had not even
thanked her. How could I, in that stiff way I had adopted towards her?

My father was buried beneath an elm-tree, at the farthest corner of the
garden. I had my mother laid by his side. When the funeral was over,
Mrs. Wood and her daughters remained at the house to arrange matters
somewhat, and to give directions to the young servant, who was now my
only housekeeper. At one time I was left alone with Jane; the others
were up stairs. Feeling that any emotion on my part might reasonably be
attributed to my affliction, I resolved to thank her for her kindness. I
rushed suddenly up to her, and, seizing her hand, pressed it between my
own.

"I want to thank you, Jane," I began, "but--I cannot."

And I could not, for I trembled all over, and something choked me so
that I could not speak more.

"Oh, don't, Mr. Allen!" she said; and the tone in which she uttered the
words startled me.

It seemed as if they came from the very depths of her being. Feeling
that I could not control myself, I rushed out and gained my own chamber.
What passed there between myself and my great affliction can never be
told.

In