"A great deal, uncle," said Alice. "Have you had a pleasant ride?"
"Yes; but my child, you look very sick. What can be the matter with you? Anna, did you send for the doctor?"
"No—Alice objected so."
"But you must send for him—I am sure she is seriously ill."
"There is nothing the matter with me, but a headache," said Alice. "After tea, I will go to bed, and will be well in the morning."
"God grant you may, my sweet one. What has come over you?"
"Tea is ready," said Cousin Janet. "Let us go in to it, and then have prayers, and all go to bed early. Why Cousin Weston, you are getting quite dissipated in your old age; coming home to tea at this hour; I suppose I shall begin such practices next."
Miss Janet's suggestion of retiring early, was followed. Phillis came in to see how Alice's head was, and recommended brown paper and vinegar. She made no comment on her appearance, but did not wonder that Lydia was struck with the expression of her countenance. There was an uneasiness that was foreign to it; not merely had the glow of health departed, there was something in its place, strange there. 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.