ick gesture that
enjoined silence, she led him down the corridor, upon which rough fibre
mats had been strewn to deaden sound.

With that peculiar sensation of awe that serious illness always
engenders, he tip-toed after her, a sense of apprehensive depression
growing upon him with every step. As they neared the end of the
passage, a door opened noiselessly, and two figures emerged from a
darkened room. The taller of the two--a pale, emaciated woman, dressed
in mourning--was unknown to him; but a glance told him that the latter
was little Nance, grown to pretty, immature girlhood.

On catching sight of him, she drew back with a passing touch of the old
shyness; but, conquering it almost directly, she came forward and shook
hands in silence. In the momentary greeting, he saw that her vivacious
little face was red and marred by tears; but before he had time for
further observation Clodagh touched his arm.

"My aunt, Mrs. Asshlin!" she whispered.

Milbanke bowed, and Mrs. Asshlin extended her hand.

"We meet on a sad occasion, Mr. Milbanke," she murmured in a low,
querulous voice. "My poor brother-in-law was always such a rash man.
But with some people, you know, there is no such thing as
remonstrating. Even this morning when Mr. Curry, our rector from
Carrigmore, came to have a little talk with him, he was barely polite;
and it was only yesterday that we dared to tell him that Doctor
Gallagher insisted on having a nurse. Now, what can you do with a
patient like that?"

Milbanke murmured something vaguely unintelligible; and Clodagh stirred
impatiently.

"Did you give him the medicine, Aunt Fan?" she asked.

"I did; but with great difficulty. My brother-in-law has always been
averse to medical aid," she explained to Milbanke.

"He's never had any need of it," Clodagh whispered sharply. "Will you
come, Mr. Milbanke? He's quite alone. The nurse is resting."

With great dignity Mrs. Asshlin moved away.

"I shall ask Hannah to get me a cup of tea, Clodagh," she murmured. "I
get such a headache from a sick-room."

Without replying, Clodagh turned again to Milbanke.

"He's not to get excited," she whispered. "And mind--mind--don't say
that you think him looking badly."

She paused and laid her fingers lightly on his arm; then with a swift
movement, she stepped forward, drawing him with her into the big,
darkened room with its sense of preternatural quiet, and its pungent,
suggestive smell of drugs and antisepti