unchangeable, but for the ever-growing cloud of Time. There
was the old clock, ticking by the dresser, not missing its record of the
short life of every second that would never come again. There on the
hearth was the log that might seem cold, but always treasured a spark to
be rekindled; and the indomitable bellows, time-defying, that never
failed to find it out and make it grow to flame. There was the old iron
kettle, all blackness without and crystal purity within, singing the
same song that it began a long lifetime since, and showing the same
impatience under neglect. There on the dresser was the same
dinner-service that had survived till breakage and neglect of its
brethren had made it a rarity; and on the wall that persevering naval
battle her husband's great-grandmother's needle had immortalised a
century and a half ago. The only change she saw was the beadwork
tablecloth wrapped over the mill-model, in its place above the hearth.
Otherwise there was no change.

And here was she, face to face with resurrection--that was how she
thought of it--all her brain in a whirl, unfit to allot its proper place
to the most insignificant fact; all her heart stunned by a cataclysm she
had no wits to give a name to. She had come with a rare courage and
endurance to be at close quarters with this mystery, whatever it was, at
once. On the very verge of full knowledge of it, this terror had come
upon her, and she stood trembling, sick with dread undefined, glad she
need not speak or call out. It would pass, and then she would call to
Ruth, whose voice she could hear in the room beyond. There was another
voice, too, a musical one, and low. Whose could it be? Not her lost
sister's--not Maisie's! Her voice was never like that.

The cat came purring round her to welcome her back. The great bulldog
trotted in from the yard behind, considered her a moment, and passed out
to the front, attracted by the voices of Keziah and John Costrell.
Having weighed them, duly and carefully, he trotted back past Granny
Marrable, to give one short bark at the bedroom door, and return to the
yard behind, his usual headquarters. Then Ruth came from the bedroom,
hearing the movement and speech without.

She was terribly taken aback. "Oh, mother dearest," she said, betrayed
into speaking her inner thought, "you have come too soon. You cannot
know."

"_I_ know," said Granny Marrable. "I will tell you presently. Now take
me to her."

Ruth saw she meant