mblance of a smile. Then a
shadow crossed it, and once more he turned his head to the wall.

And now to Rotha the hours went by with flying feet. Every hour of
them was as precious to her as her heart's blood. How few were the
hours of morning! The thing which above all she came here to do was
not being done. A dull dead misery seemed to sit cold on her soul.

Rotha tended the sufferer with anxious care, and when the fitful sleep
slid over him, she sat motionless with folded hands, and gazed through
the window. All was still, sombre, chill, and dreary. The wind had
slackened; the river ran smoother. In a field across the valley a
woman was picking potatoes. No other human creature was visible.

Thus the hours wore on. At one moment Garth awoke with a troubled
look, and glanced watchfully around. His mother was sitting in her
accustomed seat, apparently asleep. He clutched at Rotha's gown, and
made a motion to her to come closer. She did so, a poor breath of hope
fluttering in her breast. But just then Mrs. Garth shifted in her
seat, and faced about towards them. The blacksmith drew back his hand,
and dropped his half-lifted head.

Towards noon Mrs. Garth got up and left the bedroom. Her son had
appeared to be asleep but he was alert to every movement. Again he
plucked Rotha's gown, and essayed to speak. But Mrs. Garth returned in
a moment, and not a word was said.

Rotha's spirits flagged. It was as though she were crawling hour after
hour towards a gleam of hope that fled farther and farther away.

The darkness was gathering in, yet nothing was done. Then the clock
struck four, and Rotha drew on her shawl once more, and walked to the
bridge.

Willy was there, a saddled horse by his side.

"You look jaded and out of heart, Rotha," he said.

"Can you stay four hours longer?" she asked.

"Until eight o'clock? It will make the night ride cold and long," he
answered.

"True, but you can stay until eight, can you not?"

"You know why I go. God knows it is not to be present at that last
scene of all: that will be soon after daybreak."

"You want to see him again. Yes; but stay until eight o'clock. I would
not make an idle request, Willy. No, not at a solemn hour like this."

"I shall stay," he said.

The girl's grief-worn face left no doubt in his mind of her purpose.
They parted.

When Rotha re-entered the sick-room a candle was burning on a table by
the bedside. Mrs. Garth still crouched before the fire.