of his lost friend. No: he never mentioned the dreadful accident,
he never alluded to the dreadful death. He said these words, "Is she
better, or worse?" and said no more. Was the tribute of his grief for
the husband sternly suppressed under the expression of his anxiety for
the wife? The nature of the man, unpliably antagonistic to the world
and the world's customs, might justify some such interpretation of his
conduct as this. He repeated his question, "Is she better, or worse?"

Miss Garth answered him:

"No better; if there is any change, it is a change for the worse."

They spoke those words at the window of the morning-room which opened
on the garden. Mr. Clare paused, after hearing the reply to his inquiry,
stepped out on to the walk, then turned on a sudden, and spoke again:

"Has the doctor given her up?" he asked.

"He has not concealed from us that she is in danger. We can only pray
for her."

The old man laid his hand on Miss Garth's arm as she answered him, and
looked her attentively in the face.

"You believe in prayer?" he said.

Miss Garth drew sorrowfully back from him.

"You might have spared me that question sir, at such a time as this."

He took no notice of her answer; his eyes were still fastened on her
face.

"Pray!" he said. "Pray as you never prayed before, for the preservation
of Mrs. Vanstone's life."

He left her. His voice and manner implied some unutterable dread of the
future, which his words had not confessed. Miss Garth followed him into
the garden, and called to him. He heard her, but he never turned back:
he quickened his pace, as if he desired to avoid her. She watched
him across the lawn in the warm summer moonlight. She saw his white,
withered hands, saw them suddenly against the black background of the
shrubbery, raised and wrung above his head. They dropped--the trees
shrouded him in darkness--he was gone.

Miss Garth went back to the suffering woman, with the burden on her mind
of one anxiety more.

It was then past eleven o'clock. Some little time had elapsed since she
had seen the sisters and spoken to them. The inquiries she addressed to
one of the female servants only elicited the information that they were
both in their rooms. She delayed her return to the mother's bedside to
say her parting words of comfort to the daughters, before she left them
for the night. Norah's room was the nearest. She softly opened the door
and looked in. The kneeling figure by the