the
path made by the daily steps of her aged friend. To thrust the big key
into the lock required another effort, but that once accomplished, she
stilled every tumultuous beating of her heart, by crying under her
breath, "She has done this for one whom she has not seen for fifteen
years; shall I then hesitate, who know the real necessity of her for
whom this hour is made sacred?"

The slow swinging open of the door was like an ushering into the abode
of ghosts, but she struck a light at once, and soon had the satisfaction
of beholding the dismal room with its weird shadows, resolve into its
old and well remembered aspect. The ancient cabinet and stiff hair-cloth
sofa, Colonel Japha's chair by the table, together with all the other
objects that had attracted her attention in her former visit, confronted
her again with the same appearance of standing ready and waiting, which
had previously so thrilled her. Only she was alone this time, and terror
mingled with her awe. She scarcely dared to glance at the doors that led
to other portions of the house. In her present mood it would seem so
natural for them to swing open, and let upon her horrified gaze the
stately phantom of the proud old colonel or the gentler shade of
Jacqueline's mother. The moan of the wind in the chimney was dreadful to
her, and the faint rumbling sounds of mice scampering in the walls, made
her start as though a voice had spoken.

But presently the noise of a sleigh careering by the house recalled her
to herself, and remembering it was but early night-fall, she sat down in
a chair by the door, and prepared to keep her vigil with suitable
patience and equanimity. Suddenly she recollected the clock on the
mantel-piece and how she had seen Mrs. Hamlin wind it, and rising up,
she followed her example, sighing unconsciously to find how many of the
sixty minutes had yet to tick themselves away, "Can I endure it!" she
thought, and shuddered as she pictured to herself the dim old staircase
behind those doors, and the empty rooms above, and the little Bible
lying thicker than ever with dust, on the yellowed pillows of
Jacqueline's bed.

Suddenly she stood still; the noise she had just heard, was not made by
the pattering of mice along the rafters, or even the creaking of the
withered vines that clung against the walls! It was a human sound, a
clicking as of the gate without, a crunching as of feet dragging slowly
over the snow. Was Mrs. Hamlin coming after al