In a flash I saw the advantage her prolonged absence would give me, unless, indeed, she had become my confederate, so I beheld her depart with a feeling of relief which reacted in the next moment to positive helplessness and terror as the bolt was drawn behind her. What could I do? What was there to be done? For a time I sat mute and crushed by consideration; then casting myself on my bed I slept for half an hour, the kind of slumber that confusion generates, and yet I woke refreshed, calmed, comforted, and with a clearly-formed resolution and plan of action. I rose and approached Mrs. Clayton, whose groans, perhaps, aroused me, and, as I stood beside her bed, the clock in the dining room below struck six. I had still three hours for hope--for endeavor, before the circle of flame should close hopelessly around me forever! Three hours--were they not enough? Could I not compel them to concentration? A cup of strong tea was hastily drawn and swallowed--another made for, and administered by my hand to, Mrs. Clayton, with toast _ad libitum_,--a tedious process--and afterward Ernie's supper prepared and eaten--all in less than half an hour. By seven he was in bed and asleep, and I had taken my seat by Mrs. Clayton, for the purpose, apparently, of merciful ministry to her condition--a piece of self-abnegation, as it seemed, and as she felt it, scarcely to be expected on my blissful marriage night. "I feel very sorry for you; you suffer so, Mrs. Clayton," I had said, as I drew a chair beside her bed. "And I for you, Miss Monfort; our fate seems equally hard, but we must bear it;" and she groaned heavily and closed her eyes, evidently in great pain. "I have come to that conclusion, also, after a bitter struggle; physical pain is not so easily borne, however; the body has little philosophy." "I thought all this was over," she rejoined, abstractedly, "when my hands were drawn as you see them by neuralgia ten years since. But I did not suffer as much then, I believe, as I do now; besides, I was younger, happier, better able to bear pain." "Yes, that is true; the old should be at rest," at least my sense of justice whispered this; then, after a pause: "Does my rubbing ease your shoulder, Mrs. Clayton?" "Somewhat--it is my head to-night, however, that troubles me chiefly. Be good enough to press my temples. Ah, that is great relief! You are very kind, Miss Monfort; yet, in reviewing the past, I hope you will not find that I have been wanting to you in my turn. I trust we shall part in peace and meet hereafter as friends. But you do not answer me." "Pardon me, I was thinking. This is a crisis, you know--this night decides my fate for good or ill, all rests with merciful God!"