This silenced her, and she spoke no more, but almost the coldness of death steeled her heart to her husband. She did not realize the self-possession he had displayed, the difficulties in his way; she did not know that if the women she lamented had been less heroic one of them might have been saved; all she knew was, they lay dead in the embrace of the river she had once thought beautiful. "What news for poor Belle! What a shock to Frank! What consternation among mother's friends!" she thought, and tried to cry, but not a tear would come. Slowly, when Harry came to himself, and his arm had been set, they drove home. There was the table, set for tea; there was mother's chair; there was the plate of strawberries, and the vase of flowers she had gathered with such delight. She went to the window and threw them out; who cared for fruit and flowers now? Meanwhile, Harry had been taken up-stairs, and laid upon a couch, falling asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. She went and looked at him, and saw how the fire had singed his hair, how death-like he looked; how blistered were his hands. "But he let my mother drown," she thought. All night she sat by him, and when he woke and needed attention, she gave it; but that was all. She gave no kiss, no caress, no loving word, but steeled herself with the thought, "He let my mother drown." Harry was so exhausted that he did not notice this at first; when he did, he was disappointed and grieved, but not surprised. His conscience was clear, and he knew that as soon as he had strength to tell his story, Laura would see her injustice. Then he fell asleep again, and again woke and saw her sitting there, pale, and silent, and stony. He thought she had sat there a week; wondered if she would speak to him again; if she ever ate, or drank, or moved; and then, feeble as a child, he slept again. CHAPTER XXV. It was only one night and part of a day after all, and if Laura neither slept or ate during that time, it was because she had too much else to think of and to do. Vigorous measures must be taken to recover the bodies; that was the first thing. Then to get into communication with her brothers. They would see the news in the daily papers, but that would not be like authentic intelligence from herself. Frank would come to her immediately; she was sure of that; later, if--she could not trust herself even to think there could be an if--they would all be together at Greylock. Dear old Greylock! With mamma and Margaret gone what a mockery it would be!