Then the little strength which remained to Alice Claxton gave way, and she burst into a fit of grief, burying her face in the pillow, over which her long dark hair lay streaming, clutching at the coverlet with her hands, and sobbing forth broken ejaculations of misery and despair. Pauline did not attempt to interfere with her while she was in this state, but stood by the bedside calmly compassionate, waiting until the proxysm should be over, and the violence of Alice's grief should subside. It subsided after a time. Her head was raised from the pillow, the spasmodic action of the hands ceased, and although the tears still continued to flow, the ejaculations softened down into one oft-repeated wail, 'What will become of me? What will become of me?' Then Pauline gently touched her outstretched hand, and said, 'What will become of you, my poor child, do you ask? While you have been lying here unconscious, there are others who have occupied themselves with your future.' 'My future?' cried Alice. 'Why should they occupy themselves with that? How can they give me back my husband?' 'They cannot indeed give you back your husband,' said Pauline quietly, 'but they can see that your life altogether is less dreary and more hopeful than it otherwise would be; and it is well for you, Alice,' she said, calling her for the first time by her Christian name, 'that you have found such friends. You have seen one of them already, the gentleman who came here to tell you of your loss--Mr. Gurwood.' 'Ah,' said Alice, 'I remember him, the clergyman?' 'Yes, the clergyman; he is a kind and a good man.' 'Yes,' said Alice reflectively, 'he was very kind and thoughtful, I recollect that. But why did they send him; he does not belong to this parish. Why didn't Mr. Tomlinson come? Is Mr. Gurwood a friend of his?' 'Not that I know of,' said Pauline, who had not the least idea who Mr. Tomlinson might be. 'Mr. Gurwood was--is Mr. Calverley's step-son.' 'Mr. Calverley!' cried Alice, 'my poor dear John's partner? Ah, then, it was quite natural he should be sent to me.' 'Quite natural,' said Pauline, much relieved by finding her take the explanation so easily. 'Mr. Gurwood is, as I have said before, a very kind and a very good man. He will come and see you to-morrow or the next day, and tell you what he proposes you should do.' 'I suppose I shall have to leave this house?' said Alice, looking round her with a sigh. 'I should think so, Alice,' said Pauline. 'I should think it would be better for many reasons that you should, but I know nothing positively; Mr. Gurwood will talk to you about that when he comes. And now, dear, I must leave you for a while. I have to go to London to make some arrangements in my own affairs, but I will return as speedily as I can. I may see Mr. Gurwood, and I shall be glad to tell him that you are almost yourself again.' 'Almost myself,' said Alice. 'Ah, no, never myself again! never myself again!'