to pass. _She_ had brought it
forth. Not Mr. Carlyle; not Barbara; she alone. Oh, the dreadful misery
of the retrospect!

Lost in thought, in anguish past and present, in self-condemning
repentance, the time passed on. Nearly an hour must have elapsed since
Mr. Carlyle's departure, and William had not disturbed her. But who was
this, coming into the room? Joyce.

She hastily rose up, as Joyce, advancing with a quiet step drew aside
the clothes to look at William. "Master says he has been wanting me,"
she observed. "Why--oh!"

It was a sharp, momentary cry, subdued as soon as uttered. Madame Vine
sprang forward to Joyce's side, looking also. The pale young face lay
calm in its utter stillness; the busy little heart had ceased to beat.
Jesus Christ had indeed come and taken the fleeting spirit.

Then she lost all self-control. She believed that she had reconciled
herself to the child's death, that she could part with him without too
great emotion. But she had not anticipated it would be quite so soon;
she had deemed that some hours more would at least be given him, and now
the storm overwhelmed her. Crying, sobbing, calling, she flung herself
upon him; she clasped him to her; she dashed off her disguising glasses;
she laid her face upon his, beseeching him to come back to her, that
she might say farewell--to her, his mother; her darling child, her lost
William!

Joyce was terrified--terrified for consequences. With her full strength
she pulled her from the boy, praying her to consider--to be still. "Do
not, do not, for the love of Heaven! _My lady! My lady!_"

It was the old familiar title that struck upon her fears and induced
calmness. She stared at Joyce, and retreated backward, after the manner
of one receding from some hideous vision. Then, as recollection came to
her, she snatched her glasses up and hurried them on.

"My lady, let me take you into your room. Mr. Carlyle is come; he is
just bringing up his wife. Only think if you should give way before him!
Pray come away!"

"How did you know me?" she asked in a hollow voice.

"My lady, it was that night when there was an alarm of fire. I went
close up to you to take Master Archibald from your arms; and, as sure as
I am now standing here, I believe that for the moment my senses left
me. I thought I saw a spectre--the spectre of my dead lady. I forgot
the present; I forgot that all were standing round me; that you, Madame
Vine, were alive before me. Your f