My mother and I were everything to each other.  We two were all that remained of a large family.  I had always confided in her; but still I was sorry that I had opened the package there.  I might have taken it to my chamber.  But then she would have known, she must have known from my manner, that something was wrong with me.  I think, on the whole, I was glad to have her know the worst.  I knew that my mother worshipped me; but she was not one of those who let their feelings be seen on common occasions.  I gave her the note, and no more was needed.  She tried to comfort me, as mothers will; but I would not be comforted.  It was my first great heart-trouble, and I was weighed down beneath it.  She drew me towards her, I leaned my head upon her shoulder, and was not ashamed that she knew of the hot tears upon my cheeks.  At last I heard her murmuring softly,—­

“Oh, what shall I do?  He is all I have, and he is so miserable!  How can I bear his sorrow?”

I think it was the recollection of these words which induced me afterwards to hide my feelings, that she might not suffer on my account.

The next day was clear and bright.  The sleighing was perfect.  I was miserable.  I had not slept.  I could not eat.  I dared not go into the village to encounter the jokes which I was certain awaited me there.  Early in the evening, just as the moon rose, I took my stand behind a clump of trees, half-way up a hill, where I knew the sleighs must pass.

There I stood, feeling neither cold nor weariness, waiting, watching, listening for the sleigh-bells.  At last I heard them, first faintly, then louder and louder, until they reached the bottom of the hill.  Slowly they came up, passing, one after another, by my hiding-place.  There were ten sleighs in all.  She and Harry were in the fourth.  The moon shone full in their faces, and his looked just as I had often felt; but I had never dared to show it as Harry did.  I felt sure that he would kiss her.  A blue coverlet was wrapped around them, and he was tucking it in on her side.  The hill was steep just there, so that they were obliged to move quite slowly.  They were talking earnestly, and I heard my name.  I was not sure at first; but afterwards I knew.

“I never thought of his being in earnest before.  He is a great deal older than I, and I never thought that anybody so homely and awkward as he could suppose”—­

“Jingle, jingle, jingle,” and that was all I heard.  I held myself still, watched the sleighs disappear, one after another, over the brow of the hill, listened till the last note of the last bell was lost in the distance, then turned and ran.

I ran as if I had left my misery behind, and every step were taking me farther from it.  But when I reached home, there it was, aching, aching in my heart, just the same as before.  And there it stayed.  Even now, I can hardly bear to think of those terrible days and nights.  But for my mother’s sake I tried to seem cheerful, though I no longer went about with the young folks.  I applied myself closely to my business, sawed my mother’s wood for exercise, learned to paint, and read novels and poetry for amusement.