apologizing for it was impossible. I was thankful that the evident excitement under which she labored appeared to blunt her faculties and prevent her fully realizing what had occurred. I went to her. "My child," I said, "you need rest; it is nearly daylight; leave Jenny to me now." I did not offer any guarantee for keeping sacred the confidence I had wrung from her. Such a course would not have answered with such a person. She seemed even a little grateful to be relieved, and obeyed me. I took my place then beside our patient, and did not leave her for twelve hours. During that time the desired change occurred, and she soon after became convalescent.
The conflict which had hollowed Camilla Mason's cheeks and shaken her nerves appeared to have ended with the discovery she made when she opened Jack Claës' letter. She rallied, resumed her even spirits, was as perfectly and icily beautiful as ever. One morning in September, a week after Mrs. Brewster had started with Jenny for a fortnight of travel, she came to me and informed me, in a few cold, explicit words, that she was engaged to Mr. Holt. I was scarcely surprised; I was rather gratified. She had been in love with Jack Claës; but such statues do not suffer much from such disappointments, I argued; and, in a worldly way, Sylvester Holt was a "great catch." At that time I think the memory of the blue, blazing eyes and stained cheeks I had seen that August night must have faded from me.
She was to remain and be married from my house. She said, when I asked her to do so: "I have neither home nor friends, Miss Denby; I shall be glad to stay." Mr. Holt wished her to go to Boston with him and select new furniture for his house before their marriage. He likewise extended the invitation to me to accompany them, and I accepted it, as Camilla would not go otherwise. I had made up my mind that she should accept a bridal dress as my present. I was all the while trying to ease my conscience toward her; and then, too, I believe no one in the world enjoys wedding preparations so well as an old maid.
We had a delightful week in Boston. I was twice as zealous as the bride elect, who, in truth, was not zealous at all. Mr. Holt spent his money like a prince, and munificence makes even a man who coughs like a cat, agreeable. His present to Camilla was a set of pearls; he remembered me with a cashmere shawl of such royal dimensions that I shall certainly have to quarter it before I can wear it.
We had a couple of weeks left, after our return to Thorpe, prior to the day fixed for the wedding. They were busy weeks, I assure you. I used to look at Camilla—superb in her haughty indifference and think what a magnificent mistress she would be for Mr.
