"It 'is' very hard!" said my Lady. "And it must be stopped. I will myself write to my kinsman and see if this persecution cannot be put an end to at once. You have done well in showing me this letter, Margaret, and you will always do well so long as you are thus open and truthful." Then she asked me about my other letter, and was kindly interested, as usual, in my news from home: but seeing me still sad, she kissed me, and bade me not to fret over the other matter, saying that all would come right in time. "Unless I see you more cheerful," said she, smiling somewhat sadly, "I must perforce release you from your engagement and marry you and Walter out of hand so soon as he returns. I like not these long engagements." Oh, how my heart sank, as my dear Lady said these kind words. "You are not looking well yourself, my Lady," said I, feeling as if I must say something, and indeed she was not. "I am not well," she answered, wearily. "My head is heavy, and I have a sinking of the spirits, such as I never felt before in all my life. I do not sleep well, and I dream constantly of my mother and of my dead children. It is well that I have no real cause of trouble or anxiety," she added. "I think I should sink under it, if I had." Oh, how glad I was that I had borne my burden myself alone. Hard as it has been, and is, I am thankful that I have had the strength to keep it all to myself. I believe the alarm and suspense might have made all the difference to my Lady. And 'tis certain I have been wonderfully helped. Never in all my life have I had such a sense of the nearness of God and of His goodness and love to me, as during this trouble. I have felt—I say it with all reverence—such a freedom with Him—such an ability to go to Him, not only with all my trouble and anxiety, but with all my fretfulness, and rebellion, and impatience, yea and faithlessness, for I have been very faithless at some times. _October 6._ "Sorrow may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." For two or three days, life hath seemed to me merely an intolerable burden. It was as if I had carried my load till my strength was spent to the last ounce, and I must lay it down or die. I could scarce attend to my ordinary duties or collect myself enough to answer a simple question; and I felt so irritable and fretful that I longed to shut myself up and see or speak to no one. Doubtless it was well for me that I could not do so, but had my work to occupy me even more than usual; for Betty herself hath not been well, and hath shown more of her old exacting and fractious spirit than I have seen in a long time. Last night I said to her, "Lady Betty, cannot you help being so peevish and fretful? Do you know you almost wear me out?" "Do I?" asked the child, as if surprised. "I did not know I was peevish, Margaret, but I feel so tired and uncomfortable."