ter worship was over. It was the usual time for separating
for the night, but they still lingered. Not that any of them thought it
would be to-night. Mrs Snow might have thought so, for never during
the long evening, had she stirred from the side of the bed, but watched
with earnest eyes, the ever changing face of the dying girl. She had
been slumbering quietly for a little while, but suddenly, as Mrs Snow
bent over her more closely, she opened her eyes, and seeing something in
her face, she said, with an echo of surprise in her voice,--

"Janet, is it to be to-night? Are they all here? Papa, Graeme. Where
is Graeme?"

They were with her in a moment, and Graeme's cheek was laid on her
sister's wasted hand.

"Well, my lammie!" said her father, softly.

"Papa! it is not too good to be true, is it?"

Her father bent down till his lips touched her cheek.

"You are not afraid, my child?"

Afraid! no, it was not fear he saw in those sweet triumphant eyes. Her
look never wandered from his face, but it changed soon, and he knew that
the King's messenger was come. Murmuring an inarticulate prayer, he
bowed his head in the awful presence, and when he looked again, he saw
no more those bonny eyes, but Janet's toil-worn hand laid over them.

Graeme's cheek still lay on her sister's stiffening hand, and when they
all rose up, and her father, passing round the couch put his arm about
her, she did not move.

"There is no need. Let her rest! it is all over now, the long watching
and waiting! let the tired eyelids close, and thank God for the
momentary forgetfulness which He has given her."

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

That night, Graeme slept the dreamless sleep of utter exhaustion, and
the next day, whenever her father or Mrs Snow stole in to look at her,
she slept or seemed to sleep still.

"She is weary," they said, in whispers. "Let her rest." Kind
neighbours came and went, with offers of help and sympathy, but nothing
was suffered to disturb the silence of the now darkened chamber. "Let
her rest," said all.

But when the next night passed, and the second day was drawing to a
close, Mrs Snow became anxious, and her visits were more frequent.
Graeme roused herself to drink the tea that she brought her, and to Mrs
Snow's question whether she felt rested, she said, "Oh! yes," but she
closed her eyes, and turned her face away again. Janet went out and
seated herself in the kitchen, with a picture of utter despo