ald
her coming, Thekla herself stood before them. The light died away from
her eyes like the sun under a cloud, and the colour left her lips; yet
her voice was calm.

"Then they have taken my father?"

John bowed his head. Her sudden appearing choked his voice, and he
could find no words to answer her.

"And Robin?" He bowed his head again.

"Perchance, had I been there, Mr Avery, I had thanked God rather."

As she said this, one great sob escaped her and she, turned round and
went back up the stairs without another word. No one made any motion to
follow. Her voice would break the tidings best, and this was an agony
which none could spare her. In dead silence they sat for nearly half an
hour. No sound came from the chamber above, save the soft murmur of
Thekla's voice, which could just be heard when they listened for it.
Her mother's voice they did not hear at all.

At last Isoult rose, lighted a candle, and went gently up-stairs. She
paused a moment at Mrs Rose's door. Should she go in, or not? All she
could hear was Thekla reading or repeating a verse of Scripture.

"`In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be of good cheer: I have
overcome the world.'"

Thekla opened the door while Isoult still stood there.

"Shall I come in, Thekla?"

"I think not, Mrs Avery, but I thank you," she answered. "She hath not
awoke to the full sorrow yet; it is rather a shock, a stun, than an
agony. And who is dead to pain is alike dead to comfort. She will feel
it more to-morrow, and then it may be an help unto her to talk with
you."

"And for thee, Thekla, poor child!" said Isoult, sympathisingly.

"For me?" said she, the ghost of a smile flickering a moment about her
lips. "It may be I have scarce awoke either; but I dare not allow
myself to think. I have my mother to comfort and support. If she can
sleep at all, then will be my time."

"And who is to support thee, poor Thekla?" whispered Isoult.

"Mrs Avery," she answered, the light returning a moment to her eyes, "He
that holdeth up heaven and earth can surely hold me up."

Isoult said no more, but to bid her "good-night." She wondered at her,
but glided softly away.

The first thing in the morning, when Isoult rose and went into the
nursery, she saw a woman bending over Walter's crib, with black shining
hair that she knew could be on no head but Esther's.

"Esther, dear heart!" she cried, gladly, "I never was more fain to see a
face than t