I said, "and I believe in God. Let me try to wait His
will in silence."

These words I not only thought, but uttered; and thrusting back all my
misery into my heart, I made an effort to compel it to remain there--dumb
and still.

"All men must die," said a voice quite close at hand; "but all are not
condemned to meet a lingering and premature doom, such as yours would be
if you perished here of want."

"Who or what speaks?" I asked, terrified at the unexpected sound, and
incapable now of deriving from any occurrence a hope of aid. A form was
near--what form, the pitch-dark night and my enfeebled vision prevented
me from distinguishing. With a loud long knock, the new-comer appealed
to the door.

"Is it you, Mr. St. John?" cried Hannah.

"Yes--yes; open quickly."

"Well, how wet and cold you must be, such a wild night as it is! Come
in--your sisters are quite uneasy about you, and I believe there are bad
folks about. There has been a beggar-woman--I declare she is not gone
yet!--laid down there. Get up! for shame! Move off, I say!"

"Hush, Hannah! I have a word to say to the woman. You have done your
duty in excluding, now let me do mine in admitting her. I was near, and
listened to both you and her. I think this is a peculiar case--I must at
least examine into it. Young woman, rise, and pass before me into the
house."

{Hush, Hannah; I have a word to say to the woman: p323.jpg}

With difficulty I obeyed him. Presently I stood within that clean,
bright kitchen--on the very hearth--trembling, sickening; conscious of an
aspect in the last degree ghastly, wild, and weather-beaten. The two
ladies, their brother, Mr. St. John, the old servant, were all gazing at
me.

"St. John, who is it?" I heard one ask.

"I cannot tell: I found her at the door," was the reply.

"She does look white," said Hannah.

"As white as clay or death," was responded. "She will fall: let her
sit."

And indeed my head swam: I dropped, but a chair received me. I still
possessed my senses, though just now I could not speak.

"Perhaps a little water would restore her. Hannah, fetch some. But she
is worn to nothing. How very thin, and how very bloodless!"

"A mere spectre!"

"Is she ill, or only famished?"

"Famished, I think. Hannah, is that milk? Give it me, and a piece of
bread."

Diana (I knew her by the long curls which I saw drooping between me and
the fire as she bent over me) broke some bread, dipped