"No, there is no satisfaction in them," said I, "even a novel has an end, Alice; but do you think that reading pages of printed paper is all that people need to care for--do you think that is life?" "Life is not one thing, but a many things, Miss Hester," said Alice. "Dear, you're a-coming to it now." "What am I coming to--only to breakfast, and dinner, and supper, over and over again, Alice," said I. "I don't think it was so at Cottiswoode, but it is so here, I know--then you have to work all day to cook for us, and we have to eat what you cook--and that is our life." "Don't speak so, Miss Hester," entreated Alice once more, "it is not a poor woman like me that can tell you what life is; there were ten years or more in my life that were full of great things happening to me; but little happened to me before or after--you would think it was not worth my while living after these years." I confessed to my thought. "Yes, Alice! I am afraid I did think so; though I would be a very desolate girl, I am sure, without you." It seemed to move her a little, this that I said. Her cheeks reddened, and she paused in her work. "If you were older, you would know better," said Alice. "After the last of them were gone, it was a dreary, dreary time. I rose to do my work, Miss Hester, and laid me down to sleep and forget what a lonesome woman I was. What was it you said this morning about the new day cheering you, and the fresh spirit you had when you woke, howsoever you had been at night? I know what that is--but after my troubles, when I opened my eyes, and saw the daylight, it made me sick--I used to turn my face to the wall, and wish and wish that I might sleep on, and never wake to think about what had befallen me; but still I lived, and still I lived, and the breakfast and the dinner and the common ways were what God had appointed me. If I said life was trouble and sorrow, would you like it better than when its only comfort was quiet, and reading books as it is with you?" "But it was not all trouble and sorrow, Alice, in these ten years?" Her face changed again a little. I knew I was urging her to a painful subject, yet I did not pause; and I do not think my questions grieved her, even though they revived her grief. "When joy turns to sorrow, it's the sorest grief of all, Miss Hester," said Alice; "no, I was happy beyond the common lot of women, but one by one everything I rejoiced in was taken away. Yes, that was _life_--I had babies in my arms, and plans for them in my heart; I was working and contriving for their schooling and their clothing, and laying by for them and considering in my mind how to train them up. We were walking together, striving for them, using all our strength, my husband and me; ay, that was life!"