the sombre sky, "O God, save Aunt Victoria all suffering. Don't let
her feel the cold, dear Lord, don't let her feel it."

Aunt Victoria herself was stoical. She came down to breakfast every
morning, and sat up stiffly at the end of the table away from the
fire, her usual seat, eating little, and saying little, but listening
with interest when the others spoke. Beth watched her, waited on her,
and lay awake at night fretting because there was nothing more to be
done for her.

One stormy night in particular, Beth could not sleep. There was a
great gale blowing. It came in terrific gusts that shook the house,
rattled the windows, and made the woodwork creak; then died away, and
was followed by an interval of comparative quiet, broken by strange,
mysterious sounds, to which Beth listened with strained attention,
unable to account for them. One moment it was as if trailing garments
swept down the narrow stairs, heavy woollen garments that made a soft
sort of muffled sound, but there was no footfall, as of some one
walking. Then there came stifled voices, whisperings, as of people
talking eagerly yet cautiously. Then there were heavy steps, distinct
yet slow, followed, after an interval, by the tramp of shuffling feet,
like those of people carrying an awkward burden, and stumbling under
it. But always, before Beth could think what the noise meant, the gust
came again, racking her nerves, rattling the windows, making the doors
creak; then dying away, to be followed by more mysterious sounds, but
of another character.

"If only there were time--if only they would last long enough, I
should know--I should understand," Beth thought, full of foreboding.
She was not frightened, only greatly excited. Something was coming,
something was going to happen, and these were the warnings, of that
she was certain. It was as if she were sensitive to some atmosphere
that surrounds an event and becomes perceptible to those whom it
concerns if they are of the right temperament to receive the
impression.

When the blast struck the house, blotting out the strange sounds which
puzzled Beth, it released her strained attention, and had the effect
of silence upon her after noise. In one of these pauses, she wondered
if her mother and Bernadine, in the next bed, were asleep.

"Mamma," she said softly, "mamma!" There was no response. The gale
dropped. Then Beth heard some one coughing hard.

"Mamma," she said again, "mamma!"

"What's the matte