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many ladies are so prone to indulge. Mrs. Jackson could not understand this, but not dreaming that she had contributed to her friend's wayward humour, did not appear to notice it. The object of Mrs. Miller's call, to solicit attendance at a second meeting with regard to the orphan asylum, was soon dispatched, and, depressed as she had been, it was with feelings almost like pleasure that Mrs. Jackson saw her visitor depart.

She rose the ensuing morning with a dull headache, the effect of the indulgence of her grief the previous evening, and had the meeting been for any other purpose, she would have declined attendance. But the thought of her own fair child, who might one day be orphaned, quickened her sympathy, and she resolved to do all in her power to aid in securing a comfortable home for the little unfortunates, who had none to care for them.

The ladies met at Mrs. Miller's, and had nearly all arrived when she entered the room. She fancied that they bowed coldly, and it was true that none of them offered to make room for her, although almost every seat was occupied, until Mrs. Townsend chanced to notice her momentary hesitation, and drew an ottoman from an adjoining recess. Miss Seymour pertly inquired when Mr. Edward Jackson would be up again. Mrs. McCloud, on the other side, asked when she had seen Dr. Wheelock last, and though Mrs. Jackson replied courteously, she could not comprehend the reason why both ladies emphasized their questions, and smiled superciliously at her quiet replies.

The business of the meeting commenced, only once did Mrs. Jackson make a suggestion, for despite her resolutions to the contrary, this discourtesy had shaded her spirits. Her remark on the disposition of the funds already collected, was perhaps the most sensible arrangement offered; but before Mrs. Townsend

could speak in its support, Miss Seymour had proposed a contrary plan, which Mrs. Miller instantly adopted.

« Surely," thought Mrs. Jackson, as she walked home alone, "I cannot have done any thing to offend all these people. It must be a sickly fancy;" and she smiled at what she termed her foolish sensitiveness.

But day after day this neglect became more marked. Many who had before sought her society passed her with a cold bow in the street. Her visitors became more rare, and gradually a terrible depression stole over her. She tried in vain to solve the secret of this change. She could not tax herself with any fault, and after a month in which she had constantly been wounded, she resolved to overcome her reserve and question Mrs. Miller, the next time they should meet. It so chanced that in the afternoon she was detained at Dr. Van Blake's, the dentist of Rivertown, and, while waiting, could not avoid hearing the conversation of two ladies seated in the adjoining parlour, the door being partially open. Her own name at first attracted her attention, and she recognised the voice of Mrs. Miller, as she said,

“Why, Mrs. Jackson, to be sure."

“Indeed, I thought she was a particular friend of yours," was the rejoinder.

“ So she was, as long as she conducted herself properly; but when a woman is so imprudent as to have the whole town talking about her, of course I cannot countenance such conduct.”

Mrs. Jackson heard no more; the words rang in upon her brain with a leaden sense of suffering such as she had felt the first morning on which she awoke to the loneliness of widowhood. She gasped for breath as she rose up mechanically and went out into the street. She saw no one as she hurried to her home,

she gathered her veil tightly over her face and started at every footstep near her. A whirl of contending thoughts was in her mind, and for the moment she almost forgot that she was innocent: and saw already the finger of scorn pointed at her approach. Her eyes fell

upon the portrait of her husband as she entered the house. Then came a revulsion of pride. “That they should dare to speak so of his wife !” she said gaspingly, as she clenched her hands until the blood seemed oozing through the slender fingers. What could have been her fault! How had she brought detraction to increase her sorrow? In vain she reviewed each act of the past few months, her struggles with loneliness and despondency, her exertions for the good of others, her close application to business, and her busy schemes for its success. What of all this could have been misinterpreted? Conscience did not reproach her, yet even as she struggled against the feeling, it was as if she clasped a poisoned arrow to her heart when she slept that night, her pillow wet with agonizing tears.

CHAPTER IV.

.
"T is not alone my inky cloak, good mother,
Nor customary suits of solemn black,
Nor windy suspirations of forced breath,
No, nor the fruitful river of the eye,
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage,
Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief,
That can denote me truly; these indeed seem,
For they are actions that a man might play;
But I have that within, which passeth show;
These, but the trappings and the suits of woe.

HAMLET.

“ These thoughts have made me strong to check

The bitterness of grief,
Have nerved my heart to bear the pangs

That time brings no relief,—
Yet I am censured, that my love

For thee hath been so brief.
So brief! ah well! I only ask

They may not have to bear
One half the loneliness I know

One tithe of my despair !"

OR a week she saw no one.

She could not overcome the sickening thoughts that crowded upon her at the sound of a familiar voice. The duties of the day

she passed through mechanically, and those performed, she would lie upon the sofa for hours in a dull, yet harassing reverie. One evening as she thus indulged a moody sorrow,

she thought suddenly of Mrs. Townsend; true she was not an old acquaintance, and though she shrank from hearing those hateful details, she knew that Mrs. Townsend must have heard all, and would tell her gently their import.

She was right, for no one would have approached more gently.

“Tell me," said Mrs. Jackson, the instant she could speak after Mrs. Townsend's arrival,--for she had despatched a message to her, ere she slept—"tell me, what do all these stories mean? How have I transgressed the laws of propriety?, You must have heard all : of what do they accuse me?”

Mrs. Townsend was at first slightly embarrassed, but she thought it best after a moment's reflection to tell the principal reports, and as carefully as possible spoke of that with regard to Mr. Edward Jackson, and said that Dr. Wheelock's visits had been commented on by Miss Seymour, who was suspected of a penchant for the doctor herself. The last suggested its own rise at once, and Mrs. Townsend passed over it lightly, interrupted only by Mrs. Jackson's explanation of Archie's constant and irritating illness, of the past two months, and Dr. Wheelock's kind attention ;- Archie having taken one of those unaccountable childish dislikes to their family physician, Dr. Chester.

At the first Mrs. Jackson was too indignant for words, but at length spoke almost angrily in reply.

“I have known Edward from my childhood," said she. was my friend and counsellor, ay, brother, long ere I became a wife! To whom should I turn but to him?'

“It is perfectly natural, I own,” replied Mrs. Townsend, "and I have never blamed you in the least. But perhaps you might have been a little

more cautious. His lifting you into the sleigh the last time he was here?

“I had strained my ankle severely, but that very morning, and if you recollect could scarcely walk as far as Mrs. Miller's two days afterwards."

“Yes, I do remember it well,” continued Mrs. Townsend. Your long rides are another ground of comment.”

" He

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