It was like the storm passing over the beautiful lake; the outline of rock, and tree, and surface, is to be seen, but its tranquil beauty is gone; and darkness and gloom are resting where has been the home of light, and love, and beauty.
Alice undressed and went to bed; her mother raised all the windows, put out the candle, and laid down beside her.

Hoping that she would fall asleep, she did not converse, but Alice after a few minutes, called her.
"What is it, Alice ?" "Did you hear what Cousin Janet said to Lydia, to-night, mother?
God hates those who deceive." "Why think of that now, my love ?" "Because it refers to me.

She did not mean it for me, but it came home to my heart." "To _your_ heart?
That has always been truth and candor itself.

Try and banish such thoughts.

If you were well, fancies like these would not affect you." "They are not fancies, they are realities," said Alice.