y from his and
glance at her shoulder. But even as she did so she saw that his hand
was no longer there, and with a thrill of fear she exclaimed again,
"_Speak_, Kenneth, _speak_ to me!"

The words fell on empty air. There was no Kenneth beside her. She was
standing on the hearthrug alone.

Then, for the first time, there came over her that awful chill of terror
so often described, yet so indescribable to all but the few who have
felt it for themselves. With a terrible though half-stifled cry, Anne
turned towards the door. It opened before she reached it, and she
half fell into old Ambrose's arms. Fortunately for her--for her reason,
perhaps--his vague misgiving had made him follow her, though of what he
was afraid he could scarcely have told.

"Oh, ma'am--oh, my poor lady!" he exclaimed, as he half led, half
carried her back to her own room, "what is it? Has he gone? But how
could he have gone? I was close by--I never saw him pass."

"He is not there--_he has not been there_," said poor Anne, trembling
and clinging to her old servant. "Oh, Ambrose, what you and I have seen
was no living Kenneth Graham--no living man at all. Ambrose--he came
thus to say good-bye to me. He is dead," and the tears burst forth as
she spoke, and Anne sobbed convulsively.

Ambrose looked at her in distress and consternation past words. Then at
last he found courage to speak.

"My poor lady," he repeated. "It must be so. I misdoubted me and I
did not know why. He did not ring, but I was passing by the door
and something--a sort of feeling that there was some one waiting
outside--made me open it. To my astonishment it was he," and Ambrose
himself could not repress a sort of tremor. "He did not speak, but
seemed to pass me and be up the stairs and in the library in an instant.
And then, not knowing what to do, I went to your room, ma'am. Forgive me
if I did wrong."

"No, no," said Anne, "you could not have done otherwise. Ring the bell,
Ambrose; tell Seton I have had bad news, and that you think it has upset
me. But wait at the door till she comes. I--I am afraid to be left
alone."

And Mrs. Medway looked so deadly pale and faint, that when Seton came
hurrying in answer to the sharply-rung bell, it needed no explanation
for her to see that Mrs. Medway was really ill. Seton was a practical,
matter-of-fact person, and the bustle of attending to her mistress,
trying to make her warm again--for Anne was shivering with cold--and
persuadin