, the cry of resentful love,
were silenced. What place had they in the presence of this lonely agony
of death, this mystery, this opening beyond? The old heroic mood revived
in her. Her step grew swifter, her carriage more erect, and as she
entered the farm kitchen she felt herself once more ready in spirit for
what lay before her.

From the next room there came a succession of husky sibilant sounds, as
though some one were whispering hurriedly and continuously.

After her subdued greeting she looked inquiringly at Jim.

'She's in a taaking way,' said Jim, who looked more attenuated and his
face more like a pink and white parchment than ever. 'She's been
knacking an' taaking a long while. She woan't know ye. Luke ye,' he
continued, dropping his voice as he opened the 'house' door for her; 'ef
you want ayder ov oos, you jest call oot--sharp! Mrs. Irwin, shell stay
in wi' ye--she's not afeeard!'

The superstitious excitement which the looks and gestures of the old man
expressed touched Catherine's imagination, and she entered the room with
an inward shiver.

Mary Backhouse lay raised high on her pillows, talking to herself or to
imaginary other persons, with eyes wide open but vacant, and senses
conscious of nothing but the dream world in which the mind was
wandering. Catherine sat softly down beside her, unnoticed, thankful for
the chances of disease. If this delirium lasted till the ghost-hour--the
time of twilight, that is to say, which would begin about half-past
eight, and the duration of which would depend on the cloudiness of the
evening--was over, or, better still, till midnight were past, the strain
on the girl's agonised senses might be relieved, and death come at last
in softer, kinder guise.

'Has she been long like this?' she asked softly of the neighbour who sat
quietly knitting by the evening light.

The woman looked up and thought.

'Ay!' she said. 'Aa came in at tea-time, an' she's been maistly taakin'
ivver sence!'

The incoherent whisperings and restless movements, which obliged
Catherine constantly to replace the coverings over the poor wasted and
fevered body, went on for some time. Catherine noticed presently, with a
little thrill, that the light was beginning to change. The weather was
growing darker and stormier; the wind shook the house in gusts; and the
farther shoulder of High Fell, seen in distorted outline through the
casemented window, was almost hidden by the trailing rain clouds.