n their demonstrative way.

Lionel hastened out to them, a Hush--sh! upon his tongue. He caught hold
of them as they were hastening in.

"Yes; but not like this. Be still, for her sake."

Deborah looked at his pale face, reading it aright. "Is she so ill as
_tha'_?" she gasped. "Is there no hope?"

He only shook his head. "Whatever you do, preserve a calm demeanour
before her. We must keep her in tranquillity."

"Master Cheese says she went to the ball--and danced," said Deborah.
"Mr. Verner, how could you allow it?"

"She did go," he answered. "It was no fault of mine."

Heavier footsteps up the stairs now. They were those of the physician,
who had come by the train which had brought the Misses West. He, Dr.
Hayes, entered the room, and they stole in after him; Lionel followed;
Jan came bursting in, and made another; and Lucy remained outside.

Lady Verner saw Dr. Hayes when he was going away.

"There was no change," he said, in answer to her inquiries. "Mrs. Verner
was certainly in a very weak, sick state, and--there was no change."

The Misses West removed their travelling garments, and took up their
stations in the sick-room--not to leave it again, until the life should
have departed from Sibylla. Lionel remained in it. Decima and Catherine
went in and out, and Jan made frequent visits to the house.

"Tell papa it is the leaving Verner's Pride that has killed me," said
Sibylla to Amilly with nearly her latest breath.

There was no bed for any of them that night, any more than there had
been the previous one. A life was hovering in the balance. Lucy sat with
Lady Verner, and the rest went in to them occasionally, taking news.
Dawn was breaking when one went in for the last time.

It was Jan. He had come to break the tidings to his mother, and he sat
himself down on the arm of the sofa--Jan fashion--while he did it.

The flickering lamp of life had burned out at last.

CHAPTER LXXXVIII.

ACHING HEARTS.

If there be one day in the whole year more gladdening to the heart than
all others, it is surely the first day of early spring. It may come and
give us a glimpse almost in mid-winter; it may not come until winter
ought to have been long past: but, appear when it will, it brings
rejoicing with it. How many a heart, sinking under its bitter burden of
care, is reawakened to hope by that first spring day of brightness! It
seems to promise that there shall be yet a change in the dreary lot; it
wh