CHAPTER XI.
WANTED A DESERT ISLAND.
"We, too, have autumns, when our leaves Drop loosely through the dampened air; When all our good seems bound in sheaves, And we stand reaped and bare." Lowell.
Laura and Mrs.Melcombe went home, and Laura saw the window again that Joseph had so skilfully glazed.

Joseph was not there, and Laura would not have occupied herself with constant thoughts about him if there had been anything, or rather anybody else to think of.

She soon began to feel low-spirited and restless, while, like a potato-plant in a dark cellar, she put forth long runners towards the light, and no light was to be found.

This homely simile ought to be forgiven, because it is such a good one.
Peter was getting too old for her teaching.

He had a tutor, but the tutor was a married man, and had taken lodgings for himself and his wife in one of the farm-houses.
Laura had no career before her, and no worthy occupation.