oom, undressed, and lay down, sobbing quietly.

Her sobs ceased, but she could not sleep. A full moon strained its
rays through the tattered curtain, and as it climbed, she watched the
panel of light on the wall opposite steal down past a text above the
washstand, past the washstand itself, to the bare flooring. "God is
love" said the text, and Molly had paid a pedlar twopence for it,
years before, at Epworth fair--quite unaware that she was purchasing
the Wesley family motto. She heard her mother and sisters below bid
one another good night and mount to their rooms. An hour later her
father went his round, locking up. Then came silence.

Suddenly she sat up in her bed. She had heard--yes, surely--Hetty's
voice. It seemed to come from outside, close below her window--
Hetty's ordinary voice, with no distress in it, speaking some words
she could not catch. She listened. Actual sound or illusion, it was
not repeated. She climbed out of bed and drew the curtain aside.
Bright moonlight lay spread all about the house and, beyond, the
fenland faded away to an unseen horizon as through veils of gold and
silver, asleep, no creature stirring on the face of it.

She let drop the corner of the curtain and on the instant caught it
back again. A dark form, quick and noiseless, slipped past the
shadow by the yard-gate. It was Rag the mastiff, left unchained at
night: and as he padded across the yard in the full moonlight, Molly
saw that he was wagging his tail.

She watched him to his kennel; stepped to her door, lifted the latch
cautiously and stole once more along the passage to Hetty's room.

"Hetty!" she whispered. "Hetty dear! Were you calling? Is anything
wrong?" She shook the door gently. No answer came. Mr. Wesley had
left the key in the lock after turning it on the outside: and still
whispering to her sister, Molly wrenched it round, little by little.
No one stirred below-stairs: no one answered within. She pushed the
door open an inch or two, then wider, pausing as it creaked.
A draught of the warm night wind met her as she slipped into the
room, and--her fingers trembling and missing their hold--the door
fell to behind her, almost with a slam.

She stood still, her heart in her mouth. In her ears the noise was
loud enough to awake the house. But as the seconds dragged by and
still no sound came from her father's room, "Hetty!" she whispered
again.

Her eyes were on the bed as she whispered it,