“What’s the use of your loving me, when you don’t love Bertie? You hate him, and you hate Fleecy, too--you know you do! I don’t want anybody to love me, if they don’t love them. Oh, I’m so wretched!” and she went off into low wails of anguish that subsided, as usual, in sleep. Many a time would old Mauma sit and hold her so, until her arms and shoulders ached. Small and childish as she was, she was much heavier than a child, but she had no more than a child’s consideration for the trouble she gave, and Mauma would no more have reproached her with this than a mother her baby. Mrs. Bryan, out of sheer pity, began to feel herself growing attached to her boarder. She seemed to make, however, but little progress in her acquaintance, and things remained just as they had begun, until there came a break in the monotony of their intercourse, caused by the sudden illness of Fleecy. Mrs. Leith flew wildly downstairs, one morning, her face pallid with fear, and dragged the astonished widow up the stairs, exclaiming that Fleecy was dying. When they got into the room, the big white cat was lying on the lounge, stretching and jerking its body, and giving every indication of the vulgar malady of fits. Mauma was bending over the lounge, but her little mistress flew at her and pulled her away. “You shan’t touch her,” she cried, angrily, “go away! You have always hated her, and you’ll be glad if she dies! Oh, Mrs. Bryan, you will help me! Do you think she is going to die? Oh, Fleecy, Fleecy, my poor baby, don’t go and leave me! You are all I’ve got in the world.” The old negress shrugged her shoulders and moved away. It was evident that the reproaches of her mistress amounted to nothing with her. Mrs. Bryan, out of pity for the poor child’s grief, went to work to try to render aid, and, after a little doctoring, Fleecy showed signs of recovery. The gratitude showered upon Mrs. Bryan was touching to see. Mrs. Leith, usually so cold and abstracted in her manner, became suddenly affectionate and effusive. She kissed Mrs. Bryan’s hands and then her face, and begged her not to leave her. When she was entirely reassured about Fleecy, and had her darling sleeping on her lap, she suddenly caught hold of Mrs. Bryan’s hand and said, impulsively: “You are good and kind. You have a tender, loving heart. I’d like to talk to you, and tell you about my troubles. May I? Oh, if you knew how unhappy I am, and how no one understands and sympathizes with me!” Mrs. Bryan moved closer to her, and begged her to speak, assuring her, beforehand, of the sympathy which showed plainly in her face. Then, still holding the big cat on her lap, and touching it with tenderness from time to time, Mrs. Leith told her story. A singular one it was, and Mrs. Bryan, as she listened, could not altogether wonder at the friends who had refused to sympathize with Mrs. Leith in her position.