An interval of calmness succeeded, during which she revolved in her mind the possibility of going herself to the kitchen, where she knew the water-pail was standing.  No sooner had she decided upon this than the room appeared full of little demons, who laughed, and chattered, and shouted in her ears: 

“Go—­do it!  Willie did, when the night was dark and chilly; but now it is warm—­nice and warm—­try it, do!”

Tremblingly Mrs. Hamilton stepped upon the floor, and finding herself too weak to walk, crouched down, and crept slowly down the stairs to the kitchen door, where she stopped to rest.  Across the room by the window stood the pail, and as her eye fell upon it the mirth of the little winged demons appeared in her disordered fancy to increase; and when the spot was reached, the tumbler seized and thrust into the pail, they darted hither and thither, shouting gleefully: 

“Lower, lower down; just as Willie did.  You’ll find it, oh, you’ll find it!”

With a bitter cry Mrs. Hamilton dashed the tumbler upon the floor, for the bucket was empty!

“Willie, Willie, you are avenged,” she said; but the goblins answered: 

“Not yet; no, not yet.”

There was no pump in the well, and Mrs. Hamilton knew she had not strength to raise the bucket by means of the windlass.  Her exertions had increased her thirst tenfold, and now for one cup of cooling water she would have given all her possessions.  Across the yard, at the distance of twenty rods, there was a gushing spring, and thither in her despair she determined to go.  Accordingly, she went forth into the fierce noontide blaze, and with almost superhuman efforts crawled to the place.  But what! was it a film upon her eyes?  Had blindness come upon her, or was the spring really dried up by the fervid summer heat?

“Willie’s avenged!  Willie’s avenged!” yelled the imps as the wretched woman fainted and fell backward upon the bank, where she lay with her white, thin face upturned, and blistering beneath the August sun!

Along the dusty highway came a handsome traveling carriage, in which, besides the driver, were seated two individuals, the one a young and elegantly-dressed lady, and the other a gentleman, who appealed to be on the most intimate terms with his companion; for whenever he would direct her attention to any passing object, he laid his hand on hers, frequently retaining it, and calling her “Maggie.”

The carriage was nearly opposite the homestead, when the lady exclaimed, “Oh, Richard, I must stop at my old home once more.  Only see how beautiful it is looking!”

In a moment the carriage was standing before the gate, and the gentleman, who was Margaret Hamilton’s husband—­a Mr. Elwyn, from the city—­assisted his young wife to alight, and then followed her to the house.  No answer was given to their loud ring, and as the doors and windows were all open, Margaret proposed that they should enter.  They did so; and, going first into Mrs. Hamilton’s sick-room, the sight of the little table full of vials, and the tumbled, empty bed, excited their wonder and curiosity, and induced them to go on.  At last, descending to the kitchen, they saw the fragments of the tumbler lying upon the floor.