red
terribly," he said, "and has hardly any hold upon the soul, which may
slip away from us at any moment." The good doctor professed his
willingness to stay until the immediate crisis from loss of blood was
overpast. To all enquiries he answered that he had very little hope, but
he sent the kind ladies away from the death-like chamber, and
established himself there with Wilkinson, who would not leave his
friend.

The light of a beautiful Sunday morning found Miss Du Plessis, Miss
Halbert, and Miss Graves in bitter sorrow, and little Marjorie beside
herself with grief. The very kitchen was full of lamentation; but one
young woman went about, silent and serious indeed, yet tearless. This
was Miss Carmichael. The doctor had come down to breakfast, leaving the
dominie alone with the patient, when she took a tray from Tryphena, and
carried up the morning repast of the watcher. Then, for the first time,
she got a sight of the wounded man, whose eyes the doctor had closed,
and whose jaw by gentle pressure he had brought back, till the lips were
only half parted. She could hardly speak, as she laid a timid hand on
her late principal's shoulder, directing his attention to the breakfast
tray. "Look away, please, for Cecile's sake if not for mine," she
managed to stammer, and, as he turned his head aside, she flung herself
upon her knees beside the bed, and took the apparently dead man's hand
in her own, covered it with tears and kisses, and transferred the ring
she had once worn back to her own hand, replacing it with one of her own
that would hardly slip down over the bloodless emaciated finger. Quietly
she arose, and noiselessly left the room, when the dominie returned to
his watching and administration of stimulants. When she came down
stairs, outwardly calm but looking as if she had seen a ghost,
everybody, who was in the secret of past days, knew, and respected her
silence. Even Mr. Douglas, who had thought to improve his distant
cousinship, read there the vanity of all his hopes, and bestowed a
double share of attention upon Miss Graves, charming in her genuine
sorrow over her considerate employer. Nobody cared to go to church, but
the good Squire pointed out that few could be of any service at home,
and that, if ever they had need of the comforts of religion, it was at
such a time. So Mr. Perrowne and Mr. Errol each received a quota of
grief-stricken worshippers from Bridesdale, and, at the close of their
respective serv