Ben was a daily visitor, and spoke of sister Mary with great pride. He was a good boy and willing. Hal felt anxious to help him, if he desired it, by giving him more schooling, but he was a farmer born, and his greatest ambition was to own a farm and have a saw mill. He went to the village school, and had as good an education as that could give, for he was not dull. I was glad for his sake he liked farming; it seemed to me a true farmer ought to be happy. Golden and crimson leaves were fluttering down from the forest trees, for October had come upon us and nearly gone, and while all prospects for living were full of cheer, I felt a great wonder creeping over me, and with it, fear. Louis had said no word to me as yet, and could it be he had forgotten the year was at an end? Surely not. Could his mind have changed? Oh, how this fear troubled me! He was as kind as ever, but he said much less to me, and seemed like one pre-occupied. One chance remark of Clara's brought the color to my cheeks, as we sit together. "Louis, my dear boy, what is it? A shadow crossed your face just then." He looked surprised, and only half answered: "The shadow of yourself. I was thinking about you." Mr. Benton did not talk of leaving us; he had some unfinished pieces, and my father had said: "Remain as long as you please, if my wife is willing." After Hal left, I felt his studio marred by Mr. Benton's presence, for he had become a perfect torture to me, and I began to believe he delighted in it, secretly. Then again, I had the room to attend to, and I must in consequence be annoyed. Of this I was tired, and when day after day passed and brought no word from Louis, save in common with the rest, I said, hopelessly: "Let it go. I will try to love no one but father and mother and Clara and Hal, and oh, dear! when shall I ever be ready to say, 'Now Clara, let me help you'?" She said to me through these days I was not happy. "Wild flower, what troubles thee?" one day, and again, "Emily, my royal Emily, art thou sighing for wings?" November came and passed, and the gates of the new year were opening, still all the way lay dark before me. Night after night my tear-stained pillow told my sorrow mutely, and day after day I sighed. Mother was not well, and I felt that everything was wrong. I was worrying myself sick, I knew, and could not help it. It was a cold, bitter day, and in my heart lay bitter thoughts when Matthias came over to tell us, that "Peg was right sick, 'pears like she's done took sick all in a minit, onions and onions, mustard and mustard, an nothin' don't do no good. Here's a piece of paper I foun' in de road, 'pears like you mus' want it," and he handed it to me. I put it in my pocket and went to ask Aunt Hildy what to do for Aunt Peg. She proposed to go over, and Ben went with her.