ted, now clasping her hands and lifting
her eyes heavenward. "Dear Lord and Saviour! My heart is full of
thankfulness! Innocent! Oh, let it be made as clear as noonday! And my
baby, Lord--oh, my baby, my baby! Give him back to me!"

She fell forward upon her bed, kneeling, her face hidden among the
pillows, trembling and sobbing.

"Edith! Edith!" came the agitated voice of her father from without. She
rose quickly, and opening the door, saw his pale, convulsed countenance.

"Quick! quick! Your mother!" and Mr. Dinneford turned and ran down
stairs, she following. On reaching the dining-room, Edith found her
mother lying on a sofa, with the servants about her in great excitement.
Better than any one did she comprehend what she saw.

"Dead," fell almost coldly from her lips.

"I have sent for Dr. Radcliffe. It may only be a fainting fit," answered
Mr. Dinneford.

Edith stood a little way off from her mother, as if held from personal
contact by an invisible barrier, and looked upon her ashen face without
any sign of emotion.

"Dead, and better so," she said, in an undertone heard only by her
father.

"My child! don't, don't!" exclaimed Mr. Dinneford in a deprecating
whisper.

"Dead, and better so," she repeated, firmly.

While the servants chafed the hands and feet of Mrs. Dinneford, and did
what they could in their confused way to bring her back to life, Edith
stood a little way off, apparently undisturbed by what she saw, and
not once touching her mother's body or offering a suggestion to the
bewildered attendants.

When Dr. Radcliffe came and looked at Mrs. Dinneford, all saw by his
countenance that he believed her dead. A careful examination proved the
truth of his first impression. She was done with life in this world.

As to the cause of her death, the doctor, gathering what he could from
her husband, pronounced it heart disease. The story told outside was
this--so the doctor gave it, and so it was understood: Mrs. Dinneford
was sitting at the table when her head was seen to sink forward, and
before any one could get to her she was dead. It was not so stated to
him by either Mr. Dinneford or Edith, but he was a prudent man, and
careful of the good fame of his patients. Family affairs he held as
sacred trusts. We'll he knew that there had been a tragedy in this
home--a tragedy for which he was in part, he feared, responsible; and he
did not care to look into it too closely. But of all that was involved