She lay down trembling. After a little she said,

“Give me my clothes.”

He looked at her.

“Yes; I am going to dress to-morrow. I should get up now but it is rather late. Put them on that chair. My collars are in the little box, my boots behind the door.”

Her eyes followed him intently as he collected the articles one by one, and placed them on the chair as she directed.

“Put it nearer,” she said; “I cannot see it;” and she lay watching the clothes, with her hand under her cheek.

“Now open the shutter wide,” she said; I am going to read.”

The old, old tone was again in the sweet voice. He obeyed her; and opened the shutter, and raised her up among the pillows.

“Now bring my books to me,” she said, motioning eagerly with her fingers; “the large book, and the reviews, and the plays; I want them all.”

He piled them round her on the bed; she drew them greedily closer, her eyes very bright, but her face as white as a mountain-lily.

“Now the big one off the drawers. No, you need not help me to hold my book,” she said; “I can hold it for myself.”

Gregory went back to his corner, and for a little time the restless turning over of leaves was to be heard.

“Will you open the window,” she said, almost querulously, “and throw this book out? It is so utterly foolish. I thought it was a valuable book; but the words are merely strung together, they make no sense. Yes — so!” she said with approval, seeing him fling it out into the street. “I must have been very foolish when I thought that book good.”

Then she turned to read, and leaned her little elbows resolutely on the great volume, and knit her brows. This was Shakespeare — it must mean something.

“I wish you would take a handkerchief and tie it tight round my head, it aches so.”

He had not been long in his seat when he saw drops fall from beneath the hands that shaded the eyes, on to the page.

“I am not accustomed to so much light, it makes my head swim a little,” she said. “Go out and close the shutter.”

When he came back, she lay shrivelled up among the pillows.

He heard no sound of weeping; but the shoulders shook.

He darkened the room completely.

When Gregory went to his sofa that night, she told him to wake her early; she would be dressed before breakfast. Nevertheless, when morning came, she said it was a little cold, and lay all day watching her clothes upon the chair. Still she sent for her oxen in the country; they would start on Monday and go down to the Colony.

In the afternoon she told him to open the window wide, and draw the bed near it.

It was a leaden afternoon, the dull rain-clouds rested close to the roofs of the houses, and the little street was silent and deserted. Now and then a gust of wind eddying round caught up the dried leaves, whirled them hither and thither under the trees, and dropped them again into the gutter: then all was quiet. She lay looking out. Presently the bell of the church began to toll, and up the village street came a long procession. They were carrying an old man to his last resting-place. She followed them with her eyes till they turned in among the trees at the gate.