"Yes, I can see it from here," said Eve. "It's a good companion--always awake." She was speaking conventionally; she had spoken conventionally through the long supper, and the effort had tired her: she was not in the least accustomed to concealing her thoughts. "Always awake. Are _you_ always awake?" said Cicely, returning to the fire. "I? What an idea!" "I don't know; you look like it." "I must look very tired, then?" "You do." "Fortunately you do not," answered Eve, coldly. For there was something singularly fresh about Cicely; though she had no color, she always looked fair and perfectly rested, as though she had just risen from a refreshing sleep. "I suppose you have never felt tired, really tired, in all your life?" Eve went on. "N--no; I don't know that I have ever felt _tired_, exactly," Cicely answered, emphasizing slightly the word "tired." "_You_ have always had so many servants to do everything for you," Eve responded, explaining herself a little. "We haven't many now; only four. And they help in the fields whenever they can--all except Dilsey, who stays with Jack." Again the name. Eve felt that she must overcome her dread of it. "Jack is very like his father," she said, loudly and decidedly. "Yes," answered Cicely. Then, after a pause, "Your brother was much older than I." "Oh, Jack was _young_!" "I don't mean that he was really old, he hadn't gray hair. But he was thirty-one when we were married, and I was sixteen." "I suppose no one forced you to marry him?" said the sister, the flash returning to her eyes. "Oh, yes." "Nonsense!" "I mean he did--Jack himself did. I thought that perhaps you would feel so." "Feel how?" "Why, that we made him--that we tried, or that I tried. And so I have brought some of his letters to show you." She took a package from her pocket and laid it on the mantelpiece. "You needn't return them; you can burn them after reading." "Oh, probably," answered Eve, incoherently. She felt choked with her anger and grief. There was a murmuring sound in the hall, and Miss Sabrina, pushing the door open with her foot, entered apologetically, carrying a jar of dark-blue porcelain, ornamented with vague white dragons swallowing their tails. The jar was large; it extended from her knees to her chin, which rested upon its edge with a singular effect. "My dear," she said, "I've brought you some po-purry; your room hasn't been slept in for some time, though I _hope_ it isn't musty." The jar had no handles; she had difficulty in placing it upon the high chest of drawers. Eve went to her assistance. And then Miss Sabrina perceived that their guest was crying. Eve changed the jar's position two or three times. Miss Sabrina said, each time, "Yes, yes; it is much better so." And, furtively, she pressed Eve's hand.