A sudden movement of her head showed her Maria Semple in her wedding dress. She turned herself quickly from the glass, and with frantic haste unfastened the gown and hung it up. All the trinkets in which they had dressed her were as quickly removed, and she was not satisfied until she had cast off every symbol of the miserably frustrated marriage. But as hour after hour passed and no one came near her she became sick with terror, and she was also faint with hunger and thirst. Something must be ventured, some one must be seen; she felt that she would lose consciousness if she was left alone much longer. After repeatedly ringing her bell, it was answered by one of the women. "I want some tea, Mary, and some meat and bread. What is the matter with every one?" "The doctors do say as Mrs. Semple is dying, and the master is like a man out of his mind." The woman spoke with an air of distinct displeasure, if not dislike, but she brought the food and tea to Maria, and without further speech left her to consider what she had been told. Oh, how long were the gloomy hours of the day! How much longer those of the terrible night! The very atmosphere was full of pain and fear; lights were passing up and down, and footsteps and inarticulate movements, all indicating the great struggle between life and death. And Maria lay dressed upon her bed, sleepless, listening and watching, and seeing always in the dim rushlight that white shimmering gown splashed with rain, and hanging limply by one sleeve. It grew frightful to her, threatening, uncanny, and she finally tore it angrily down and flung it into a closet. [Illustration: MARIA LAY DRESSED UPON HER BED.] But the weariest suspense comes to some end finally, and just as dawn broke there was a sudden change. The terror and the suffering were over; peace stole through every room in the house, for a man child was born to the house of Semple. CHAPTER XII. LOVE AND VICTORY. This event was in many ways favorable to Maria. She was put aside, nearly forgotten for a month, in the more imminent danger to the household. And by that time the almost brutal passion which in the first hours of shame and distress could think of no equivalent but personal punishment, had become more reasonable. For men and women, if worthy of that name, do not tarry in the Valley of the Shadow of Death without learning much they would learn nowhere else. Still her position was painful enough. Her father did not speak unless it was necessary to ask her a question, her stepmother for nearly eight weeks remained in her room, and the once obsequious servants hardly troubled themselves to attend to her wants or obey her requests. In the cold isolation of her disgrace she often longed for a more active displeasure. If only the anger against her would come to words she could plead for herself, or at least she could ask to be forgiven.