"Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;

And let us all to meditation."

--2 Henry VI.

That night after twelve o'clock Mary Garth relieved the watch in Mr.

Featherstone's room, and sat there alone through the small hours. She

often chose this task, in which she found some pleasure,

notwithstanding the old man's testiness whenever he demanded her

attentions. There were intervals in which she could sit perfectly

still, enjoying the outer stillness and the subdued light. The red

fire with its gently audible movement seemed like a solemn existence

calmly independent of the petty passions, the imbecile desires, the

straining after worthless uncertainties, which were daily moving her

contempt. Mary was fond of her own thoughts, and could amuse herself

well sitting in twilight with her hands in her lap; for, having early

had strong reason to believe that things were not likely to be arranged

for her peculiar satisfaction, she wasted no time in astonishment and

annoyance at that fact. And she had already come to take life very

much as a comedy in which she had a proud, nay, a generous resolution

not to act the mean or treacherous part. Mary might have become

cynical if she had not had parents whom she honored, and a well of

affectionate gratitude within her, which was all the fuller because she

had learned to make no unreasonable claims.

She sat to-night revolving, as she was wont, the scenes of the day, her

lips often curling with amusement at the oddities to which her fancy

added fresh drollery: people were so ridiculous with their illusions,

carrying their fool's caps unawares, thinking their own lies opaque

while everybody else's were transparent, making themselves exceptions

to everything, as if when all the world looked yellow under a lamp they

alone were rosy. Yet there were some illusions under Mary's eyes which

were not quite comic to her. She was secretly convinced, though she

had no other grounds than her close observation of old Featherstone's

nature, that in spite of his fondness for having the Vincys about him,

they were as likely to be disappointed as any of the relations whom he

kept at a distance. She had a good deal of disdain for Mrs. Vincy's

evident alarm lest she and Fred should be alone together, but it did

not hinder her from thinking anxiously of the way in which Fred would

be affected, if it should turn out that his uncle had left him as poor

as ever. She could make a butt of Fred when he was present, but she

did not enjoy his follies when he was absent.




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