Elizabeth

And during the nights that followed, the sense of comfort grew stronger.

They had little chance to speak to each other during the day.

Each had her own tasks to perform, and any attempt at conversation would have been regarded as a tendency to loiter.

Don't mind me, miss, Becky whispered during the first morning.

But before daybreak, she used to slip into Sarah's attic and button her dress and give her such help as she required before she went downstairs to light the kitchen fire.

And when night came, Sarah always heard the humble knock at her door, which meant that her handmaid was ready to help her again if she was needed.

During the first weeks of her grief, Sarah felt as if she were too stupefied to talk.

So it happened that some time passed before they saw each other much or exchanged visits.

Becky's heart told her that it was best that people in trouble should be left alone.

The second of the trio of comforters was Ermengarde, but odd things happened before Ermengarde found her place.

When Sarah's mind seemed to awaken again to the life about her, she realized she had forgotten that Ermengarde lived in the world.

The two had always been friends, but Sarah had felt as if she were years the older.

It could not be contested that Ermengarde was as dull as she was affectionate.

She clung to Sarah in a simple, helpless way.

She brought her lessons to her that she might be helped.

She listened to her every word and besieged her with requests for stories.

But she had nothing interesting to say herself, and she loathed books of every description.

She was, in fact, not a person one would remember when one was caught in the storm of a great trouble, and Sarah forgot her.

It had been all the easier to forget her because she had been suddenly called home for a few weeks.

When she came back, she did not see Sarah for a day or two.