I am frightened." Hester turned her wide eyes towards her friend.
"Do you still consider, after these four years, that _he_ did you an injury ?" Rachel looked out upon the mournful landscape.

The weariness of midsummer was upon it.

A heavy hand seemed laid upon the brow of the distant hills.
"I gave him everything I had," she said, slowly, "and he threw it away.
I have nothing left for any one else.

Perhaps it is because I am naturally economical," she added, smiling faintly, "that it seems now, looking back, such a dreadful waste." "Only in appearance, not in reality," said Hester.

"It looks like a waste of life, that mowing down of our best years by a relentless passion which itself falls dead on the top of them.