"Oh, hush, hush, little May!" said Claire, holding her to her breast, and half sadly, half playfully, rocking herself to and fro. "You don't know what trouble is. You don't know what it is to have your tenderest feelings torn. You never knew what it was to suffer as I have. I hate him." She could not see Claire's ghastly face, nor the agonised twitching of the nerves about her lips which her sister was striving to master. "No one knows what I have had to suffer," she went on; "and it's too hard--it's too hard to bear. No one loves me, no one cares for me. It's all misery and wretchedness, and--and I wish I was dead." "No, no, no, darling," said Claire, as she drew the sobbing little thing closer to her breast; "don't say that. I love you dearly, my own sister, and it breaks my heart to see you unhappy. But there, there, you are so weary and ill to-night that it makes everything look so black. I suffer too, darling, for your sake--for all our sakes, and now I will not scold you." "Scold me?" cried May, in affright. "No, not one word; only pray to you to be careful of your dear, sweet little self. My darling, I am so proud of my beautiful little sister. You will not be frivolous again, and give me so much pain?" "N-no," sighed May, with her face buried in her sister's breast. "Frank--" "Don't--don't speak of him." "Yes, yes; he is your husband, and you must try to win him over to you by gentleness, instead of being a little angry tyrant." "Clairy!" "Yes, but you can be," said Claire playfully, as she pressed her lips upon the soft, flossy hair. "I can remember how these little hands used to beat at me, and the little tearful eyes flash anger at me in the old times." Just then Denville entered the room softly, with a weary, dissatisfied air; but, as he stood in the doorway unnoticed, his whole aspect changed, and the tears stood in his eyes. "God bless them!" he said fervently; and then, as he saw May raise her head, and look excitedly in her sister's face, he stepped forward. "Well, little bird," he said, bending down to kiss May's forehead, "back once more in the old nest?" Claire looked searchingly at him as she rose from her knees; and then she sighed as she saw May fling herself into her father's arms. "There, there, I shall make the head ache again," he said, with a calm, restful smile upon his lips, such as Claire had not seen for months. "How he loves her!" she thought; and then another idea flashed through her breast. Suppose May knew! "Claire, my child, is her room ready?" "Yes; Morton's room is prepared in case he came back. She will sleep there unless--May, will you come to me?" "Yes, yes," cried the little girlish thing, in a quick excited way. "No, no; I'll be alone. Let me go now--at once." Claire fetched and gave her a lighted candle, finding her clinging passionately to her father, looking, as it seemed to the thoughtful woman, like some frightened child.