From the hour that these Martins came to reside at F----, Noah Cotton seemed a different creature. He was more sullen and reserved, and his attendance at the chapel was more frequent. His countenance, always pale and care-worn, now wore a troubled and anxious expression, and his athletic form wasted until he became perfectly haggard--the very spectre of his former self. In spite of his stern prohibition, Sophy, if she did not ask the Martins to the house, often, during her husband's absence, slipped in to chat and gossip with them. Before long, her own countenance underwent a visible change, and her wasted figure and neglected dress led a stranger to suspect that she was either in a decline, or suffering from great mental depression. Several weeks elapsed, and Mrs. Cotton had not been seen outside her dwelling by any of the neighbours. Mrs. Martin and Sarah wondered what ailed her, and both at length concluded that she must be seriously ill. But, as no doctor was seen visiting at the house, and Noah went about his farm as usual, this could hardly be the case. They were puzzled, and knew not what to think. At last, on the day that Noah went over to ----, in order to remove Mrs. Grimshawe and Mary to his own abode, the mystery was solved, and Sophy came across the road to visit her neighbours. "Mercy, child! what aileth thee?" cried the old woman, hobbling to meet her, perfectly astonished at the melancholy alteration which a few weeks of seclusion had made in Mrs. Cotton's appearance. "You are ill, Mrs. Cotton," said Sarah, placing the easy-chair for her guest beside the fire. "I have not felt well for some time," returned Sophy, trying to seem composed; "and now, the alarming illness of my poor mother has quite upset me, I would have gone with Noah to ---- to see her, but indeed I was not able,"--and she burst into tears. "How long has she been sick?" asked the inquisitive old dame. "Only a few days. Noah took the horse and cart to fetch her and Mary home to live with us. It is kind of Noah--very kind. But, God forgive me! I almost wish they mayn't come." "Why, child, it would cheer thee up a bit. I am sure thee wantest some one to take care o' thee." "I would rather be alone," sighed the young wife. "What has come over thee, Sophy Cotton?" said the old woman, coming up to her and laying her hand on her shoulder, while she peered earnestly into her face. "I never saw such a cruel change in a young cretur in the course of a few weeks! But there may be a cause--a natural cause," and she smiled significantly. "No, no, thank goodness! You are wrong--quite wrong, Mrs. Martin. No child of mine will ever sport upon my threshold, or gather daisies beside my door; and I am thankful--so thankful, that it is so!" "That's hardly in natur'. Most o' womankind love young children--'specially their own." "My dear Mrs. Cotton," said Sarah soothingly, "you look ill and miserable; do tell us what makes you so unhappy."