“Mrs. Cives —­ can’t she?”

“Mis’ Cives is gone off home.”

“Gone home! —­ what, to Mountain Spring?”

“That’s where her home is, she says.”

“What for? and without asking?”

“She wanted to spend to-night at home, she said; and she asked no questions and went.”

“To night of all nights! when Karen seems so much worse!”

“It’s good we’ve got the Governor,” said Clam.

“But he can’t sit up all night with her.”

“Guess he will,” said Clam.  “Pretty much like him.  You can sleep in your bed, Miss ’Lizabeth.”

“You go and get the room ready —­ he must not sit up all night —­ and we’ll see in the morning about Mountain Spring.  Somebody must go.”

“He’ll go if you ask him,” said Clam.  “He’d do the marketing best, now, of all of us.  He knows just where everything is.  ’Fact is, we want him in the family pretty much all the time.”

“Let him know when his room is ready, and offer him refreshments, —­ and call me if I am wanted.”

Clam departed; but Elizabeth, instead of doing the same, took a chair on the kitchen hearth and sat down to await any possible demands upon her.  She could hear a quiet sound of talking in Karen’s room; now and then the old woman’s less regulated voice, more low or more shrill, broke in upon the subdued tones of the other.  Elizabeth thought she would have given anything to be a hearer of what was said and listened to there; but the door was shut; it was all for Karen and not for her; and she gave up at last in despair and retreated to her cousin’s room.

“So he’s come?” said Rose.

“Yes! —­ he’s come.  Did you know he was coming?”

“I! —­ No, —­ I didn’t know he was coming.  How should I?”

“Did you think he was coming, Rose?”

“I didn’t know but he’d come,” said Rose a little awkwardly, “I didn’t know anything about it.”

Elizabeth chose to ask no further question.  Somewhat mortified already, she would not give herself any more certain ground of mortification, not at that time.  She would talk no more with Rose.  She went to bed; and long after her companion was asleep, she listened for Winthrop’s coming out or Clam’s colloquy with him, and for any possible enquiry after herself.  She heard Clam tap at the door —­ she heard the undistinguished sound of words, and only gathered that Winthrop probably was declining all proffered comforts and luxuries and choosing to spend the night by Karen’s pillow.  And weary and sorry and sick of everything in the world, Elizabeth went to sleep.

She waked up in the morning to hear the twittering of the birds around the house.  They were singing busily of the coming day, but the day had not come yet; at least it was some time before sunrise.  Elizabeth softly got up, softly dressed herself, and went out into the kitchen.  That messenger must be despatched for something for breakfast.