In vain the kind-hearted minister whispered words of comfort, in vain Leslie tried to soothe her, and win her to tears, in awe of her strange, white face and dry-lidded eyes. They could not understand her, and were fain to leave her alone, the while one quoted fearfully to the other: "The grief that does not speak, Whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break." So the chilly night wanes, and at three o'clock in the morning, carriage wheels echo loudly in the street below, and pause in front of the house. The haughty mistress, and Ivy, her daughter, have returned from the esthetic ball whose delights they could not forego, although their relative lay ill unto death in the house. A tap at Vera's door, and Mrs. Brown, the chamber-maid, glances in. The worthy woman has been out at "a party" herself, and is quite unconscious of all that has happened since she left the house. Her stolid gaze falls curiously on the recumbent figure on the cold, hard floor. "Wake up, Miss Vera! Whatever be you a-sleeping on the cold floor this night for? Miss Ivy says for you to come down to her room immejitly." Disdaining a reply to the coarse woman, Vera drags herself up from the hard floor, and with stiffened limbs takes her way to the luxurious apartment of her cousin. How different this large and comfortable room from Vera's bare and fireless little den. Miss Cleveland's apartment has soft hangings of pale-blue plush, bordered with silver, cream lace curtains, a blue satin counterpane embroidered with silvery water-lilies. The atmosphere is warm and dreamy, and languid with the scent of hot-house flowers in blue and silver vases. The mistress of all this elegance stands in the center of the room, clothed in an esthetic gown of pale-blue, embroidered down the front with small sunflowers. She is a pretty blonde, with straw-colored hair in loose waves, and turquoise blue eyes, that usually wear an expression of infantine appeal and innocence. Just now the eyes look heavy and dull, and there is a tired, impatient look on her delicate-featured face. "Here you are _at last_," she says, as Vera comes slowly in with her white face and heavy eyes, with their look of dumb and hopeless pain. "Hurry up now and undress me; I'm tired and sleepy, and ready to drop!" Vera stands still, looking gravely at her, and making no move to obey the cool and insolent mandate. For years her cousin has ruthlessly trampled her under foot, and made her a despised slave. It comes to the girl with a sudden thrill of triumph now that this is the last time Ivy will ever order her about. She is Leslie Noble's wife, and he will shield her from her cousin's abuse. "Come, don't stand staring like a fool," Ivy breaks out coarsely and impatiently. "Don't you see I'm waiting? Here, pull off these tight slippers. I cannot stand them a minute longer!"