sure of seeing--"

Margaret could have opened her arms to any spectre from the pale
kingdoms at a moment like this, and under the imploring eye of Mrs
Enderby. She disengaged her hand from that of her old friend, and took
Mrs Rowland's, offering to kiss her cheek. Mrs Rowland returned the
kiss, with some little visible agitation.

"Thank you, my dears!" said Mrs Enderby, in a strong voice of
satisfaction. She had made a great effort. Her speech now failed her;
but they thought she would have said something about the children.

"The children--" said Mrs Rowland, rather eagerly. She turned, and
went slowly out of the room. The moment the door was shut, there was a
heavy fall. She had fainted on the outside.

Her mother heard it not. When Mrs Rowland was found to be reviving,
the children were brought to their grandmamma's room. They quietly
visited the bed, one by one, and with solemnity kissed the wasted
cheek,--the first time they had ever kissed grandmamma without return.
The baby made its remark upon this in its own way. As it had often done
before, it patted the cheek rather roughly: several hands were instantly
stretched out to stop its play; it set up a cry, and was hurried out of
the room.

By the middle of the night, Margaret was longing to be at home and
alone. It was all over. She was ashamed to think of her own share of
the loss while witnessing Philip's manly grief, or even while seeing how
Phoebe lamented, and how Mr Rowland himself was broken-down; but not
the less for this was her heart repeating, till it was sick of itself,
"I have lost another mother."

She did not see Mrs Rowland again.

In the earliest grey of the morning, Mr Rowland took Margaret home. As
they stood on the steps, waiting to be let in, she observed that the
morning star was yellow and bright in the sky. As soon as the sun had
risen, the toll of the church bell conveyed to every ear in Deerbrook
the news that Mrs Enderby was dead. Perhaps there might have been
compunction in the breasts of some who had been abroad on Saturday
night, on hearing the universal remark that it must have been rather
sudden at last.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

MOVING ONWARD.

The world rolls on, let what may be happening to the individuals who
occupy it. The sun rises and sets, seed-time and harvest come and go,
generations arise and pass away, law and authority hold on their course,
while hundreds of millions of human hearts have