say again; the iron fingers of Time measure out the moments of that last lingering hour; again light hearts wait breathless for its pealing signal, as they did of old, but these silent watchers here have no ear for any sounds within their own sorrowful dwelling, though there is not a passing footstep on the street without that does not ring upon their anxious ears in echoing agony; there is not a sound of distant wheels bearing, mayhap, some reveller to and fro, which does not bring an alternate throb and chill to their painful beating hearts. This stillness is past all bearing, it is painfully unendurable, and Christian springs to the door and gazes out upon the cold and cheerless street, and as she does so a thoughtless passenger wishes her a “happy new year.” Alas! to speak of happiness, a happy new year to her in such a moment as this! Mrs. James Melville is astonished at all this grief; she cannot understand nor fathom it. Suppose Halbert _has_ been foolish, and behaved ill, what then? Why should her husband have gone off so suddenly, and her sister-in-law be in such a state? She was sure she could not comprehend it, and would have been very foolish to have done such foolish things for all the brothers in the universe. Young men will be young men, and they should be left to come to themselves, instead of all this to-do being made about them; it was preposterous and absurd, and put her in a very ridiculous position; and so Mrs. James pouted and sulked and played with her chains and her rings, stopping now and then in her agreeable relaxation to cast a glance of contemptuous scorn at restless, excited, anxious Christian, and drooping, fragile Mary. A nice way this to bring in the new year, the first anniversary of her married life, the first return of the day of her wedding; a nice state James would be in for her party of to-morrow evening; and Mrs. James, by way of venting her ill-humour, shoved away with her slippered foot, a little dog which was sleeping before the cheerful fire. How Christian starts as it cries and creeps to her feet: it is Halbert’s dog, and as her eye falls on it, its youthful owner seems to stand before her, so young, so frank, so innocent! now gay as a child, making the walls echo with his overflowing mirth; now grave and serious, like the dead mother whose latest breath had committed him as a precious jewel to her, and bidden her watch over him and guard him with her life. Oh, had she neglected her charge! Was this fault, this apparent wreck _hers_?