If you knew how both head and heart ache, you would not urge me." Mary turned away, and ate the usually joyous meal with a heavy heart.
Florence had left her seat, and was standing in the door: as her cousin rose from the table she beckoned to her, and passed hurriedly out.

Mary strove to catch her arm but she hastened on, as if trying to escape from herself.

Suddenly she paused by the river side, and clasped her hands convulsively over her head.
"Mary! Mary! you know not what I suffer." "Florry, sit down, and lean your weary head on my shoulder." She dipped her hand in the water, and dashed the cold, sparkling drops on her cousin's burning brow, speaking the while in a low, soothing tone.

Florence rested a few moments in her cousin's arms, then threw herself on a grassy bank, and covered her face; one long, deep groan alone attesting her mental anguish.

Mary wept more bitterly than she had yet done; still, she was so quiet, none would have known her grief, save from the tears that fell over her hand and arms.