ly
guilty touching her; as though the saving of me had been the loss of
her. O Lord God, have mercy upon her!

SELWICK HALL, FEBRUARY YE XXII.
This cold even were we maids and _Ned_ bidden to a gathering at Master
_Murthwaite's_, it being _Temperance_ her birthday, and she is now two
and twenty years of age. We had meant for to call on our way at _Mere
Lea_, to ask how was _Blanche_, but we were so late of starting (I need
not blame any) that there was no time left, and we had to foot it at a
good pace. Master _Murthwaite_ dwells about half a mile on this side of
_Keswick_, so we had a middling good walk. There come, we found
_Gillian Armstrong_ and her brethren, but none from _Mere Lea_.
_Gillian_ said her mother had been thither yester-morn, when she
reckoned _Blanche_ to be something better: and they were begun to hope
(though Dr _Bell_ would not yet say so much) that she might tide o'er
her malady. A pleasant even was it, but quiet: for Master _Murthwaite_
is a strong _Puritan_ (as folk do now begin to call them that be strict
in religion,) and loveth not no manner of noisy mirth: nor do I think
any of us were o'er inclined to vex him in that matter. I was not,
leastwise. We brake up about eight of the clock, or a little past, and
set forth of our way home. Not many yards, howbeit, were we gone, when
a sound struck on our ears that made my blood run chill. From the old
church at _Keswick_ came the low deep toll of the passing bell.

"One,--two!"--then a pause. A woman.

There were only two women, so far as I knew, that it was like to be. I
counted every stroke with my breath held. Would it pause at the
nineteen which should point to daft _Madge_, or go on to the twenty-one
which should mean _Blanche Lewthwaite_?

"Eighteen--nineteen--twenty--twenty-one!"

Then the bell stopped.

"O _Ned_, it is _Blanche_!" cries _Edith_.

"Ay, I reckon so," saith _Ned_, sadly.

We hurried on then to the end of the lane which leads up to _Mere Lea_.
Looking up at the house, whereof the upper windows can be seen, we saw
all dark and closed up: and in _Blanche's_ window, where of late the
light had burned day and night, there was now only pitch darkness. She
needed no lights now: for she was either in the blessed City where they
need no light of the sun, or else cast forth into the blackness of
darkness for ever. Oh, which should it be?

"_Milisent_!" said a low, sorrowf