"Well, dear, it is like you to feel so,--I knew you would; and I will not
say a word. Oh, Mary, if she ever thinks of such things now--"

"I hope she will not--I hope she cannot!" cried the girl, with once more
a vehement pressure of her friend's hands.

"What is that?" Mrs. Bowyer said, looking round. "It is somebody in the
next room, I suppose. No, dear, I hope so too, for she would not be happy
if she remembered. Mary, dry your eyes, my dear. Try not to think of
this. I am sure there is some one in the next room. And you must try not
to look wretched, for all our sakes--"

"Wretched!" cried Mary, springing up. "I am not wretched." And she turned
with a countenance glowing and full of courage to the door. But there was
no one there,--no visitor lingering in the smaller room as sometimes
happened.

"I thought I heard some one come in," said the vicar's wife. "Didn't you
hear something, Mary? I suppose it is because I am so agitated with all
this, but I could have sworn I heard some one come in."

"There is nobody," said Mary, who, in the shock of the calamity which had
so suddenly changed the world to her, was perfectly calm. She did not
feel at all disposed to cry or "give way." It went to her head with a
thrill of pain, which was excitement as well, like a strong stimulant
suddenly applied; and she added, "I should like to go out a little, if
you don't mind, just to get used to the idea."

"My dear, I will get my hat in a moment--"