But John was an easy conversationalist, and the lunch hour passed not unpleasantly. After it was over Mrs. Temple rose, restlessly. "Come with me into the garden for a short time," she said, addressing John; "it will occupy my mind a little to talk to you." "I shall be most happy," he answered, and for the next half-hour he walked up and down the garden walks with his uncle's wife. She was evidently trying to keep herself under control, but occasionally she grew excited. "You must have thought me mad yesterday," she said once, "to waylay you as I did. But I felt so restless to see you; I hated you, you know, because--because you had come to take my darling's place." "I hope you will not hate me any longer," replied John, gently. She looked at him searchingly. "No," she said, "I do not think I shall. But bear with me for a little while, for I have suffered so much. Mine has been a life of suffering," she added, impetuously. "No one knows, none but my own heart, what I have gone through." "We all suffer at times, I believe," answered John, gravely. "But men do not suffer as women do," continued Mrs. Temple, excitedly. "Men can go out into the world, can fight, can struggle, while we sit breaking our hearts at home. But why speak of it? Anyone can tell what my life has been--look at my marriage?" "But my uncle is most devoted to you?" "A young woman married to an old man! Take my advice, Mr. Temple, don't marry an old woman." She gave a harsh little laugh as she said this, and it jarred on John's ears. He grew restless to go away. It must be nearing three o'clock, he knew, and he wanted to be in the woods at Fern Dene, with someone who was fresh and fair, not like this dark, handsome, spirit-torn woman. And with quick intuition Mrs. Temple perceived this. "You are tired of me," she said, "and I am getting tired of you. Good-by for the present; we will meet again at dinner;" and with this she nodded and turned away, and John was free to follow his own inclinations. CHAPTER VI. CRUEL WORDS. What these inclinations were we may easily guess. To walk as quickly to Fern Dene as possible, yet when he arrived there he found that May Churchill was just preparing to go home. "I could not come before," he explained, hastily; "my uncle's wife took into her head to go into the garden, and asked me to go with her, and what could I do?" "Poor Mrs. Temple!" said May, pityingly. "Yes, indeed, she is greatly to be pitied." "Her loss was terrible, most terrible. Phil was such a dear, bright boy, and to die unconscious, as he did, must have nearly broken his mother's heart." "Do you know her?" inquired John Temple. "A little; merely through things connected with the schools and the church, you know. I used to teach at the schools once," added the Mayflower, with a smile rippling over her rosy lips; "but Mrs. Layton made herself so disagreeable that I left off, and since then I have been one of her black sheep."