t his head to the swinging pendulum, or put his ear
to the hidden works. Soft-footed and discreet, she tripped along at his
back, and at each pause he made, paused herself and turned her ear his
way. The extreme darkness of the halls, which were more sombre by night
than by day, favoured this attempt, and she was able, after a failure
or two, to catch the No! no! no! no! which fell from his lips in seeming
repetition of what he heard the most of them say.

The satisfaction in his tone proved that the denial to which he
listened, chimed in with his hopes and gave ease to his mind. But
he looked his oldest when, after pausing at another of the many
time-pieces, he echoed in answer to its special refrain, Yes! yes! yes!
yes! and fled the spot with shaking body and a distracted air.

The same fear and the same shrinking were observable in him as he
returned from listening to the least conspicuous one, standing in a
short corridor, where Violet could not follow him. But when, after
a hesitation which enabled her to slip behind the curtain hiding the
drawing-room door, he approached and laid his ear against the great
one standing, as if on guard, at the foot of the stairs, she saw by
the renewed vigour he displayed that there was comfort for him in its
message, even before she caught the whisper with which he left it and
proceeded to mount the stairs:

"It says No! It always says No! I will heed it as the voice of Heaven."

But one conclusion could be the result of such an experiment to a mind
like Violet's. This partly touched old man not only held the key to the
secret of this house, but was in a mood to divulge it if once he could
be induced to hear command instead of dissuasion in the tick of this
one large clock. But how could he be induced? Violet returned to Mrs.
Postlethwaite's bedside in a mood of extreme thoughtfulness.

Another day passed, and she had not yet seen Miss Postlethwaite. She was
hoping each hour to be sent on some errand to that young lady's room,
but no such opportunity was granted her. Once she ventured to ask the
doctor, whose visits were now very frequent, what he thought of the
young lady's condition. But as this question was necessarily put in Mrs.
Postlethwaite's presence, the answer was naturally guarded, and possibly
not altogether frank.

"Our young lady is weaker," he acknowledged. "Much weaker," he added
with marked emphasis and his most professional air, "or she would be
here instead