of love and pain. Her wet cheek was pressed against
Judith's lips, the tears rained down in a torrent. All the rich,
untapped strength of her invincible youth was in that healthful flood
of tears.

There were none such in the eyes of Professor Marshall as he came down
the stairs to greet his daughter. Sylvia was immeasurably shocked by
his aspect. He did not look like her father. She sought in vain in
that gray countenance for any trace of her father's expression. He
came forward with a slow, dragging step, and kissed his daughter,
taking her hand--his, she noticed, felt like a sick man's, parched,
the skin like a dry husk. He spoke, in a voice which had no resonance,
the first words that had been uttered: "You must be very tired,
Sylvia. You would better go and lie down. Your sister will go with
you." He himself turned away and walked slowly towards the open door.
Sylvia noticed that he shuffled his feet as he walked.

Judith drew Sylvia away up the stairs to her own slant-ceilinged room,
and the two sat down on the bed, side by side, with clasped hands.
Judith now told briefly the outline of what had happened. Sylvia
listened, straining her swollen eyes to see her sister's face, wiping
away the tears which ran incessantly down her pale, grimy cheeks,
repressing her sobs to listen, although they broke out in one burst
after another. Her mother had gone down very suddenly and they had
cabled at once--then she grew better--she had been unspeakably
brave--fighting the disease by sheer will-power--she had conquered
it--she was gaining--they were sorry they had cabled Sylvia--she had
not known she was going to die--none of them had dreamed she was going
to die--suddenly as the worst of her disease had spent itself and the
lungs were beginning to clear--suddenly her heart had given way, and
before the nurse could call her husband and children to her, she was
gone. They had been there under the same roof, and had not been with
her at the last. The last time they had seen her, she was alive and
smiling at them--such a brave, wan shadow of her usual smile--for a
few moments they went about their affairs, full of hope--and when they
entered the sick-room again--

Sylvia could bear no more, screaming out, motioning Judith imperiously
to stop;--she began to understand what had happened to her; the words
she had repeated so dully were like thunder in her ears. Her mother
was dead.

Judith took her sister again in her arms, ho