She did not keep her bed, or confine herself to her room, but she went about the house with a slow, noiseless, gentle tread, so unlike the step of that Katie whom we once knew.
But that which was a mystery to the experienced medical gentleman, was no mystery to her mother.

Mrs.Woodward well knew why her child was no longer rosy, plump, and _debonnaire_.
As she watched her Katie move about so softly, as she saw her constant attempt to smile whenever her mother's eye was on her, that mother's heart almost gave way; she almost brought herself to own that she would rather see her darling the wife of an idle, ruined spendthrift, than watch her thus drifting away to an early grave.

These days were by no means happy days for Mrs.Woodward.
When that July day was fixed for Linda's marriage, certain invitations were sent out to bid the family friends to the wedding.

These calls were not so numerous as they had been when Gertrude became a bride.

No Sir Gregory was to come down from town, no gallant speech-makers from London clubs were to be gathered there, to wake the echoes of the opposite shore with matrimonial wit.