” Part 9 She was sitting brooding over her fire about ten o’clock that night when a sealed and registered envelope was brought up to her. It consisted of a close jerkin of brown frieze, ornamented with a triple row of brass buttons; loose Dutch slops, made very wide in the seat and very tight at the knees; red stockings with black clocks, and a fur cap. Her fanciful imagination no longer drew pictures of the aunt in the doorway of a wooden house, her arms extended in welcome. "It was that song that put it into my head to cut my name on the beam. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. “My God!” he said at last, with tremendous feeling, and then again, “My God!” Now that this thing was said her mind was clear and calm.
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