She lived always in a state of dread of
some disaster or disgrace, and instinct told her that one or the
other had come.

The man went down the steps to meet her. Jessie stood waiting at the
door; she would have gone forward too, but that she was shaking so,
she felt she should never get down the steps. So she stood there
supporting herself by the door, and watched her mother's face, and
saw the shocked look that came over it. She could not hear all that
was said, but she caught fragments of sentences, "Come at once"--
"alive when I left." "Searching him for his name and address, but I
knew Harry--and came along to prepare you. He's at St. Mary's."

Mrs. Lang came up to the door to Jessie, holding out her basket and
umbrella for her to take. She dragged her limbs almost like a
paralyzed woman, and her eyes looked dazed. "I'll be back--as soon
as I can," she said; but her lips seemed stiff and scarcely able to
move. "You look after the house." She was turning away, when she
suddenly turned, and stooping, kissed Jessie for the first time in
her life; and Jessie, looking up, flung her arms around her
stepmother's neck and kissed her in return. This new trouble had
brought them very close.

With tear-blinded eyes Jessie turned and groped her way back into the
house to face that hardest of all trials--suspense. Slowly, slowly
she dragged herself down to the kitchen to see to the fire, then up
the stairs to Miss Patch to tell her the news and wait.

Before long, though, they both crept down to the kitchen, so as to be
at hand when needed; but Jessie could not keep still, the suspense
was hard to bear, and made her restless. She wandered aimlessly from
fire to window and back again. They talked a little, speculating as
to what was happening, and what they should hear, and Jessie lit the
lamps as soon as the dimness gave her the slightest excuse. A great
dread of troubles and changes, and they knew not what else, filled
them both.

Fortunately the suspense did not last very long. Before two hours
had passed they heard footsteps coming up the path to the house.
Jessie knew them, and flew out to meet her mother. Miss Patch
stirred the fire into a cheerful blaze, then smiled to herself at the
uselessness of her own act. She longed to do so much, yet was able
to do so little.

Mrs. Lang came in slowly, heavily; her face was white, her eyes were
red.

"He is dead," she gasped, as she dropped heavily into a