, the boundaries
of the natural and the supernatural were a little confused in his mind.

"Help, help!" cried a voice; and now the familiar tone of that voice
made him utter a loud cry in return.

He searched for the key, and made his way to the door; but, just as he
began to insert the key, the voice was at the door outside.

"Oh, save me! A dying girl! Save me!"

The cry was now a moan, and the next moment an inert mass fell like lead
against the door in a vain attempt to knock at it.

The voice was Grace Carden's, and it was Grace Carden's body that fell
so inert and powerless against the church-door, within a yard of Henry
Little's hand.

CHAPTER XI.

On the twenty-fourth of December Miss Carden and Jael Dence drove to
Cairnhope village, and stopped at the farm: but Nathan and his eldest
daughter had already gone up to the Hall; so they waited there but a
minute or two to light the carriage lamps, and then went on up the hill.
It was pitch dark when they reached the house. Inside, one of Mr. Raby's
servants was on the look-out for the sound of wheels, and the visitors
had no need to knock or ring; this was a point of honor with the master
of the mansion; when he did invite people, the house opened its arms;
even as they drove up, open flew the great hall-door, and an enormous
fire inside blazed in their faces, and shot its flame beyond them out
into the night.

Grace alighted, and was about to enter the house, when Jael stopped her,
and said, "Oh, miss, you will be going in left foot foremost. Pray don't
do that: it is so unlucky."

Grace laughed, but changed her foot, and entered a lofty hall, hung
with helmets, pikes, breast-plates, bows, cross-bows, antlers etc., etc.
Opposite her was the ancient chimneypiece and ingle-nook, with no grate
but two huge iron dogs, set five feet apart; and on them lay a birch log
and root, the size of a man, with a dozen beech billets burning briskly
and crackling underneath and aside it. This genial furnace warmed the
staircase and passages, and cast a fiery glow out on the carriage, and
glorified the steep helmets and breast-plates of the dead Rabys on the
wall, and the sparkling eyes of the two beautiful women who now stood
opposite it in the pride of their youth, and were warmed to the heart by
its crackle and glow. "Oh! what a glorious fire, this bitter night. Why,
I never saw such a--"

"It is the yule log, miss. Ay, and you might go all round England,
and