t
seemed to be drawing near. She must be left to herself a while, and
Janet watched her as she went out over the fallen leaves, and over the
bridge to the pine grove beyond, with a longing pity that fain would
have borne her trouble for her. But she could not bear it for her--she
could not even help her to bear it. She could only pray that whatever
the end of their doubt for Marian might be, the elder sister might be
made the better and the wiser for the fear that had come to her to-day.

There are some sorrows which the heart refuses to realise or
acknowledge, even in knowing them to be drawing near. Possible danger
or death to one beloved is one of these; and as Graeme sat in the shadow
of the pines shuddering with the pain and terror which Janet's words had
stirred, she was saying it was impossible--it could not be true--it
could never, _never_ be true, that her sister was going to die. She
tried to realise the possibility, but she could not. When she tried to
pray that the terrible dread might be averted, and that they might all
be taught to be submissive in God's hands, whatever His will might be,
the words would not come to her. It was, "No, no! no, no! it cannot
be," that went up through the stillness of the pines; the cry of a heart
not so much rebellious as incredulous of the possibility of pain so
terrible. The darkness fell before she rose to go home again, and when
she came into the firelight to the sound of happy voices, Menie's the
most mirthful of them all, her terrors seemed utterly unreasonable, she
felt like one waking from a painful dream.

"What could have made Janet frighten herself and me so?" she said, as
she spread out her cold hands to the blaze, all the time watching her
sister's bright face.

"Graeme, tea's over. Where have you been all this time?" asked Rose.

"My father was asking where you were. He wants to see you," said Will.

"I'll go ben now," said Graeme, rising.

The study lamp was on the table unlighted. The minister was sitting in
the firelight alone. He did not move when the door opened, until Graeme
spoke.

"I'm here, papa. Did you want me?"

"Graeme, come in and sit down. I have something to say to you."

She sat down, but the minister did not seem in haste to speak. He was
looking troubled and anxious, Graeme thought; and it suddenly came into
her mind as she sat watching him, that her father was growing an old
man. Indeed, the last seven years had not