services. Raeburn had recovered his senses for a
minute but only to sink almost immediately into another swoon. For many
hours this went on; he would partly revive, even speak a few words,
and then sink back once more. Every time Erica thought it would end
in death, nor could she gather comfort from the looks of either of the
doctors or of Donovan.

"This is not the first time I've been knocked down and trampled on,"
said Raeburn, faintly, in one of his intervals of consciousness, "but it
will be the last time."

And though the words were spoken with a touch of his native humor
and might have borne more than one interpretation, yet they answered
painfully to the conviction which lay deep in Erica's heart.

"Then let me send a telegram from the 'Ashborough Times' office," said
Donovan to her in one of the momentary pauses. "I have sent for your
cousin and Mrs. Craigie and for Brian."

For the first time Erica's outward composure gave way. Her mouth began
to quiver and her eyes to fill.

"Oh! Thank you," she said; and there was something in her voice that
went to Donovan's heart.

CHAPTER XL. Mors Janua Vitae

Therefore to whom turn I but to Thee, the ineffable Name?
Builder and maker Thou, of houses not made with hands!
What, have fear of change from Thee who art ever the same?
Doubt that thy power can fill the heart that Thy power expands?

And what is our failure here but a triumph's evidence
For the fullness of the days? Have we withered or agonized?
Why else was the pause prolonged but that singing might issue thence?
Why rushed the discords in, but that harmony should be prized?
R. Browning

Early on the Monday morning three anxious-looking travelers arrived by
the first train from London, and drove as fast as might be to the Park
Hotel at Ashborough. They were evidently expected for the moment their
cab stopped a door on one of the upper floors was opened, and some one
ran quickly down the stairs to meet them.

"Is he better?" asked Aunt Jean.

Erica shook her head and, indeed, her face told them much more than
the brief words of the telegram. She was deathly white, and had that
weighed-down look which people wear when they have watched all night
beside one who is hovering between life and death. She seemed to recover
herself a little as her hand rested for a moment in Brian's.

"He has been asking for you," she said. "Do go to him. The faintness
has