168 Turnaside Cottage.

wanted help, but she replied that she brought only
misery on those she meddled with; we had best
lock her up, like a wild beast, lest she should drive
us away too—away to destruction, to worse than
death. She thought it hard and heartless of me
that I could go on working, living among men, and
battling my way ; alas, if I had not, where would
the food have come from for her and for my mother,
or the roof over their heads? We hoped that the
change of dwelling might serve to divert her
thoughts, but she sat listlessly by my busy mother’s
side, whose hands worked none the slower for her
dropping tears: she packed nothing, not even her
own. clothing ; and when I had at last, with much
ado, coaxed her into the fly that I had engaged to
carry her to our lodging—for I feared the conse-
quences if she should meet that man in the strects
—she sat self-absorbed and unobservant as before.
What did it matter? what did anything matter?
all was over for her.

“Til as we could afford it, we called in all the
doctors in the place; they talked of hysteria, but
could do nothing. The clergyman came, and he,
too, failed—as far, at least, as any good to my sister
was concerned ; but his visits comforted my mother
—and sorely she must have needed comfort, for I
know nothing more wearing than watching the