“So she is, but will stop and visit us on the way East. I know it will do you good to have her here. She is always bright and happy.” Alice’s lip quivered at the implied reproach, though Mark had no intention of meaning it as such. “But will she be happy here? I am afraid our rude little cabin will scarcely make her comfortable.” “Don’t worry about that, child. Nellie is a good-hearted little woman, in spite of her wealth and love of society, and she will enjoy the change, I assure you.” “I feel—afraid to see her,” said Alice, the tears quivering in her lashes. “Alice, dear, can it be this lonely, isolated life that is ruining your health and nerves? Shall I give up my commission and go back East?” “Oh, no, Mark! It is pleasant here—only—” And Alice again looked apprehensively behind her. “My poor child, we will go East,—anywhere,—to get you away from these scenes and influences,” he murmured. “But, Mark, do you not think they are everywhere? In the East and West and North and South? The air is full of them, it seems to me. What used to seem only thin, pure, fresh air, sweet to breathe, and space vast and limitless, appears now a thickly populated ether or chaos in which are countless thousands of spirits floating or coming and going in surging, whirling, maddening confusion. Oh, you cannot see with my eyes! If you could you would pity me!” Alice leaned against her husband’s arm and her tears fell softly. “You wouldn’t scold me if you knew.” “Poor child, poor child! I will not scold you nor laugh at you. I will cure you. I know disordered nerves are as bad as other functional disorders, or worse, and it is a physician you need, and a big dose of rest, and you shall have them. You shall not be left alone again, either. You are not afraid when I am here?” “No, you seem to exercise control even over the inhabitants of the air.” “I thank God I am able to. Did you know, Alice, Nathan’s little Lucy is ill?” “Little Lucy? Ah, how sorry I am. How did you learn it?” “I met Nathan down the road and came home with him.” “Mark, dear, how I am neglecting you. I am sure you are tired and hungry, and here I have been taking your time with my woes, and forgetting your needs. Supper is all ready, however, except making the tea.” “Ah, that begins to sound like home again. Yes, I am hungry. I am always hungry when I can come home to my own table and have my good wife’s cooking.” And Alice, intent upon the hospitable entertainment of her husband, forgot, for the time, the spectres that haunted her. CHAPTER XXI THE REAPER The spring brought trouble deep and lasting to the home of Nathan. Their child, upon whom Lissa had rested her heart and hopes after the manner of all mothers since the dawn of creation, sickened and died.