“I hope you rest well. You’ve been working too hard. I’m glad I’m here to help you now. I used to think when we were separated how much you needed my care. Poor Mother often spoke of it. You must get strong again.” “I’ll be up in a little while,” called John. Lucy undressed herself and lay down. The murmur of the voices of her mother and her husband came to her faintly. She lay and thought. When John came to bed he supposed her to be asleep, and tip-toed about the room, undressing in silence without a light and getting into bed with the greatest gentleness to avoid waking her. Before reclining on his pillow he leaned over her and saw her eyes wide open. “Why, Lucy, I thought you had gone to bye-bye,” he said, and, lying down, took her in his arms. She drew away from him. “Why, Lucy, what’s the matter?” he asked in a hurt tone. She made no answer but he could feel that she was silently sobbing. He took her in his arms again. This time she did not resist. “Tell me what it is, darling,” he pleaded. “Oh, John, do you want anybody but me?” She wept. “Of course I don’t,” he returned vehemently. “What made you think that?” “I don’t know,” she answered evasively, vaguely comforted by his ardent denial. “Was that what you were crying about?” he asked. “No.” “Well, what was it? Won’t you tell me, sweetheart?” “Oh, John, it wasn’t anything--except I’m--so tired.” “I know you must be,” he whispered. “It’s been an exciting day for you. But now that Nannie’s here she can take a lot of things off your hands. It will make things easier for you. You poor little girl, you have had to work so hard, and you aren’t strong.” “I don’t think so, John.” “Don’t think what?” “That she will make it easier.” He considered a minute. “Lucy.” “Yes?” “Were you crying because I stayed and talked with Nannie instead of coming upstairs with you?” “No--not that alone. I----” He caught her tightly to him. “You dear, sweet, foolish, jealous little thing,” he whispered, laughing. “The idea! Why you precious darling, I was only trying to be nice to your mother on her first day for your sake. Lucy, don’t you ever, ever dream for a second that any one could take _your_ place for a tiny instant. Why, sweetheart, I _love_ you. I only like other people.” Lucy kissed him. Soon they were asleep in each other’s arms. IV Mrs. Merwent’s maiden name was Anna Lockhart. She was born in a southern state, of a family that was considered to be aristocratic and distinguished. None of its members had ever accomplished anything noteworthy, but they had lived a long time in Russellville, there were a large number of them, and they had usually raised sugar and cotton instead of corn and tobacco. Her earliest memories were of a large, square, white house with a front porch supported by Corinthian pillars, a long drive-way lined with great trees on either side, and much display of lavish hospitality.