looking into the embers, see the life that might have been."
All this time, she was hastily putting on her things to go out, only stopping from time to time to wipe her eyes, with an impatience of gesture at the tears that would come, in spite of all her bravery.
"I dare say, there's many a woman makes as sad a mistake as I have done, and only finds it out too late. And how proudly and impertinently I spoke to him that day! But I did not know then. It has come upon me little by little, and I don't know where it began. Now I won't give way. I shall find it difficult to behave in the same way to him, with this miserable consciousness upon me; but I will be very calm and very quiet, and say very little. But, to be sure, I may not see him; he keeps out of our way evidently. That would be worse than all. And yet no wonder that he avoids me, believing what he must about me."
She went out, going rapidly towards the country, and trying to drown reflection by swiftness of motion.
As she stood on the door-step, at her return, her father came up:
"Good girl!" said he. "You've been to Mrs. Boucher's. I was just meaning to go there, if I had time, before dinner."
No, papa; I have not," said Margaret, reddening. "I never thought about her. But I will go directly after dinner; I will go while you are taking your nap."
Accordingly Margaret went. Mrs. Boucher was
