"I want to risk nothing--I need nothing!" cried I, "while I have my father, I want no other, and do not bid me think of such misery--do not, papa! You will live longer than I shall--oh! I hope, I pray you will. Papa, do not urge me, I cannot anticipate such a calamity!" "This is merely weakness; is it compassion for my feelings?" said my father. "I tell you this calamity, if it is a calamity, is coming rapidly, and you cannot stay it. What will you do then?" "I do not care what I do then," I said, scarcely knowing what my words were, "but I would rather you left me desolate than gave me to somebody to protect me. Oh! father, I cannot do it--I cannot consent." He said nothing more, but turned away from me, and went to his usual seat at the table, and to his book. I sat still in my corner, once more venturing to weep, and struck with a hundred compunctions; but I steadily resisted the strong impulse which came upon me to go to his feet and promise anything he wished--I could not do this--it would kill the very heart in me, and surely I was right. THE SEVENTH DAY. It was now nearly Midsummer, the crown of the year. I was sitting in my own room by the window, idly musing, when Alice came in with some of my light muslin dresses to put them away. I had neither book nor work to veil my true occupation. I was leaning my head upon both my hands, sometimes vacantly looking out at the windows, sometimes closing my fingers over my eyes. I had both scenery and circumstances in my dream--I wanted nothing external to help me in the meditations with which my mind had grown familiar now. I was not unaware of the entrance of Alice, but I only changed my position a little, and did not speak, hoping to be undisturbed. I saw, with a little impatience, how careful she was about the dresses--how she smoothed down their folds, and arranged them elaborately, that they might not be crushed in the drawer; but she certainly took more time than was necessary for this simple operation, and though Alice had no clue to my thoughts, I scarcely liked, I cannot tell why, to continue them in her presence. But when the drawers were closed at last, Alice still did not go away--she came to the dressing-table, and began to arrange and disarrange the pretty toilette boxes which she kept in such good order, and to loop up and pull down the muslin draperies of the table and the mirror; at last she gathered courage and came close to me. "May I speak to you, Miss Hester?" said Alice, but it was in a disturbed and nervous tone. Now I was annoyed to have my own thoughts, which had a great charm for me at that time, interrupted and broken. I looked up with a little petulance--"What is it, Alice?"