he presented her, warning her at the same time against its needle-like thorns.
"It makes me sick," said Alice hastily, throwing it away. "It is the color of gold, which I want so much; and of the sunshine, which I hate so."
"I brought it to you to show you the little emerald bee that is always to be found in one: it is wonderously beautiful,—a living gem, is it not?"
"Yes, I know," Alice said, "I admired the first one I saw; but I admire nothing any longer—nothing at least which surrounds me here."
"I understand that, of course," returned the Doctor. "It is because your health is failing you—because the air disagrees with you."
"And because my husband is so unfortunate. If he could only get away from here—and I!" The vanity of such a supposition, in their present circumstances, brought the tears to her eyes and a quiver about her mouth.
"Why did you ever come here! Why did he ever ask you to come;—how dared he?" demanded the Doctor, setting his teeth together.
"That is a strange question, Doctor!" Mrs. Hastings answered with dignity, lifting her head like an antelope. "My husband was deceived by the same hopes which have ruined others. If I suffer, it is because we are both unfortunate."
"What will he do next?" questioned the Doctor curtly. The cruel meaning caused the blood to forsake her cheeks.
"I cannot tell what he will do,"—her brief answer rounded by an expressive silence.
"You might help him: shall I point out the way to you?"—watching her intently.
"Can you? can I help him?"—her whole form suddenly inspired with fresh life.
Dr. Earle looked into her eager face with a passion of jealous inquiry that made her cast down her eyes:
