Toward night Jessie came to my room. She was sad and disheartened; Mr. Lee had not spoken to her since our return; and even her mother was vexed that she should have exposed herself to the storm. I inquired if Mr. Lawrence was at the house when her father returned. Jessie thought not, but could not say positively; only he seldom was there, except in her father's absence. She said this abruptly, and turned the conversation; the very name of Lawrence seemed to distress her. "Aunt Matty," she said, after a dreary silence, "will this widow never leave our house? Shall we remain in this state till it brings ruin on us all? Mother seems fading away, and no one appears to care. You look years older; and as for me--" "Well, Jessie?" "No matter about me; but something must be done. So long as it was myself only, I made an effort to bear it; but we are all changed, all unhappy--dear, sweet mamma, and even Lottie. There is poison in the very atmosphere, I think." "Let us have patience, Jessie; this cannot last much longer; but while Mrs. Dennison remains here, do not forget that she is your mother's guest." "But how long--how long, I say, will this last? My father is getting more distant and estranged every hour. I feel like an alien under his roof--a stranger to my very self." She was greatly excited, and wrung her hands with passionate vehemence. The proud reticence of her character was all swept away; she fell upon her knees by the bed on which I lay, and sobbed aloud. I am sure this would not have happened with any one else; but I had become almost a second self to the dear girl, and she was not ashamed to give way to her grief in my presence. While she was on her knees, Lottie opened my chamber-door and looked in. Seeing Miss Jessie, she drew back, placed a finger on her lips, and performed a series of pantomime that would have been exceedingly ludicrous but for the anxiety that beset me. As it was, I saw that she had something to communicate, but was afraid to ask her in while Jessie was so disturbed. She saw this, and darting a finger backward over her shoulder and forward at me, as if it had been a weapon, retreated, making up faces that grew more ludicrous with every step. Jessie had seen nothing of this. She arose, after a little, and went out, sighing heavily. CHAPTER XLIII. A CONSULTATION WITH LOTTIE. Directly after she was gone, Lottie came back, and, closing the door, bolted it inside and stole up to my bed on tiptoe. She looked pale and frightened, but her eyes shone through the shadows that had suddenly settled around them, and she moved like a hound doubling on its prey.