husbands' forms o' nights, and get poor women into all sorts of trouble. But I don't know why that should come into my head, for it is only a tale.... What a wind and rain it is to-night! Well, don't be in a hurry to alter things, my dear. Think it over."
"No, no! I've screwed my weak soul up to treating him more courteously—and it must be now—at once—before I break down!"
"I don't think you ought to force your nature. No woman ought to be expected to."
"It is my duty. I will drink my cup to the dregs!"
Half an hour later, when Mrs. Edlin put on her bonnet and shawl to leave, Sue seemed to be seized with vague terror.
"No, no—don't go, Mrs. Edlin," she implored, her eyes enlarged, and with a quick, nervous look over her shoulder.
"But it is bedtime, child."
"Yes, but—there's the little spare room—my room that was. It is quite ready. Please stay, Mrs. Edlin—I shall want you in the morning."
"Oh, well, I don't mind, if you wish. Nothing will happen to my four old walls, whether I be there or no."
She then fastened up the doors, and they ascended the stairs together.
"Wait here. Mrs. Edlin," said Sue. "I'll go into my old room a moment by myself."
Leaving the widow on the landing, Sue turned to the chamber which had been hers exclusively since her arrival at Marygreen, and, pushing to the door, knelt down by the bed for a minute or two. She then arose, and, taking her night-gown from the pillow, undressed, and came out to Mrs. Edlin. A man could be heard snoring in the room opposite. She wished Mrs. Edlin good-night, and the widow entered the room that Sue had just vacated.
Sue unlatched the other chamber door, and, as if seized with faintness, sank down outside it. Getting up again,
