and Barbara had been used to live
within an easy walk of one; she felt, in short, as though she were being
sent into banishment.

And there was no help for it. Within the last few weeks, a letter had
come from Lady Enville,--not very considerately worded--requesting that
if what she had heard was true, that Mr Avery's health was feeble, and
he was not likely to live long--in the event of his death, Clare should
be sent to her.

In fact, there was nowhere else to send her. Walter's two sisters, Kate
and Frances, were both dead,--Kate unmarried, Frances van Barnevelt
leaving a daughter, but far away in Holland. The only other person who
could reasonably have claimed the child was Mr Tremayne; and with what
show of justice could he do so, when his house lay only a stone's throw
from the park gates of Enville Court? Fate seemed to determine that
Clare should go to her mother. But while John Avery lived, there was to
be a respite.

It was a respite shorter than any one anticipated--except, perhaps, the
old man himself. There came an evening three weeks after these events,
when Barbara noticed that her master, contrary to his usual custom,
instead of returning to his turret-chamber after supper, sat still by
the hall fire, shading his eyes from the lamp, and almost entirely
silent. When Clare's bed-time came, and she lifted her little face for
a good-night kiss, John Avery, after giving it, laid his hands upon her
head and blessed her.

"The God that fed me all my life long, the Angel that redeemed me from
all evil, bless the maid! The peace of God, which passeth all
understanding, keep thy heart and mind, through Jesus Christ our Lord;
and the blessing of God Almighty,--the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost--be upon thee, and remain with thee always!"

So he "let her depart with this blessing." Let her depart--to walk the
thorny path of which he had reached the end, to climb the painful steeps
of which he stood at the summit, to labour along the weary road which he
would tread no more. Let her depart! The God who had fed him had manna
in store for her,--the Angel who had redeemed him was strong, enough,
and tender enough, to carry this lamb in His bosom.

Barbara noted that his step was slower even than had been usual with him
of late. It struck her, too, that his hair was whiter than she had ever
noticed it before.

"Be you aweary this even, Master?"

"Something, good maid," he answered with a smile