Then something stopped the song, and Elizabeth came back to her room. She sat down by the window. The light was changed. There seemed a strange clear brightness on all things without that they had not a little while ago, and that they never had before. And her bread was sweet to her that night.
CHAPTER XIV.
Heaven doth with us as we with torches do;
Not light them for themselves: for if our virtues
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike
As if we had them not.
SHAKSPEARE.
Much against Mrs. Nettley's will, she was despatched on her journey homewards within a few days after. She begged to be allowed to stay yet a week or two, or three; but Elizabeth was unmoveable. "It would make no difference," she said, "or at least I would rather you should go. You ought to be there — and I may as well learn at once to get used to it."
"But it will be very bad for you, Miss Elizabeth."
"I think it is right, Mrs. Nettley."
So Mrs. Nettley went; and how their young lady passed her days and bore the quietude and the sorrow of them, the rest of the household marvelled together.
"She'd die, if there was dyin' stuff in her," said Clam; "but there ain't."
"What for should she die?" said Karen.
"I'm as near dead as I can be, myself," was Clam's conclusive reply.