She did not sit still long then for meditation or to rest; her mood was action.  She took her bible from the moss, and with a strong beating sense both of the hopeful and of the forlorn in her condition, she walked slowly through the grass to the steps of her house door.  As she mounted them a new thought suddenly struck her, and instead of turning to the right she turned to the left.

“Mrs. Nettley,” said Elizabeth as she entered the sitting-room, “isn’t it very inconvenient for you to be staying here with me?”

Good Mrs. Nettley was sitting quietly at her work, and looked up at this quite startled.

“Isn’t it inconvenient for you?” Elizabeth repeated.

“Miss Haye! —­ it isn’t inconvenient; —­ I am very glad to do it —­ if I can be of any service —­”

“It is very kind of you, and very pleasant to me; but aren’t you wanted at home?”

“I don’t think I am wanted, Miss Haye, —­ at least I am sure my brother is very glad to have me do anything for Mr. Landholm, or for you, I am sure; —­ if I can.”

Elizabeth’s eye flashed; but then in an instant she called herself a fool, and in the same breath wondered why it should be, that Winthrop’s benevolence must put him in the way of giving her so much pain.

“Who fills your place at home, while you are taking care of me here, Mrs. Nettley?”

“I don’t suppose any of ’em can just do that,” said the good lady with a little bit of a laugh at the idea.

“Well, is there any one to take care of your house and your brother?”

“Mr. Landholm —­ he said he’d see to it.”

“Mr. Landholm! —­”

“He promised he’d take care of George and the house as well. —­ I dare say they don’t manage much amiss.”

“But who takes care of Mr. Landholm?”

“Nobody does, if he don’t himself,” said Mrs. Nettley with a shake of her head.  “He don’t give that pleasure to any other living person.”

“Not when you are at home?”

“It makes no difference, Miss Haye,” said Mrs. Nettley going on with her sewing.  “He never will.  He never did.”

“But surely he boards somewhere, don’t he?  He don’t live entirely by himself in that room?”

“That’s what he always used,” said Mrs. Nettley; “he does take his dinners somewhere now, I believe.  But nothing else.  He makes his own tea and breakfast, —­ that is! —­ for he don’t drink anything.  If it was any one else, one would be apt to say one would grow unsociable, living in such a way; but it don’t make any change in him, no more than in the sun, what sort of a place he lives in.”

Elizabeth stood for a minute very still; and then said gently,

“Mrs. Nettley, I mustn’t let you stay here with me.”

“Why not, Miss Haye? —­ I am sure they don’t want me.  I can just as well stay as not.  I am very glad to stay.”

“You are wanted more there than here.  I must learn to get along alone. —­ It don’t matter how soon I begin.”