d have been bestowed on the twin sister
of an old villager in her father's little kingdom in Rocestershire was
where the miracle came in.

And such a strange story as the one she had disinterred and brought to a
climax! And then, when all might have gone so well--when a very few
years of peace might have done so much to heal the lifelong wounds of
the two souls so cruelly wrenched apart half a century ago, that the
frail earthly tenement of the one should be too dilapidated to give its
tenant shelter! So small an extension of the lease of life would have
made such a difference.

But if it was hard for her to bear, what would it be to the survivor,
the old sister who had borne so bravely and well what seemed to Gwen
almost harder to endure than a loss; a resurrection from the tomb, or
its equivalent? She had often shuddered to think what the family of
Lazarus must have felt; and found no ease from the reflection that they
were in the Bible and it was quite a different thing. _They_ did not
know they were in the Bible.

She helped the parallel a little farther, while the cricket chirped
unmoved. Suppose that Lazarus had died again in earnest from the
shock--and suppose, too, please, that he was deeply beloved, which may
not have been the case! How would the wife, mother, sisters, who had
said one farewell to him, have borne to see him die a second time? Of
course, Gwen was alive to the fact that it would be bad religious form
to suggest that this contingency was not covered by some special
arrangement. But put it as an hypothesis, like the lady she had ascribed
Adrian's ring to!

She could hear Granny Marrable's voice and Elizabeth's afar, in
conference. That was satisfactory. It made her certain that the
slightest sound from old Maisie, so much nearer, would reach her. Her
door stood wide, and the other door was just ajar.

But she did not hear the slightest sound. The dog did, for he flashed
into sudden vitality and attention, and was out of the room in an
instant. He was unable to say to Granny Marrable:--"I heard your invalid
move in the bedroom, and I think you had better go and see if she wants
you," but he must have gone very near it. For Gwen heard the old lady's
step come quicker than her wont along the passage, and she reached the
kitchen-door just in time to see her pass into the room opposite. "Is
she all right?" she said.

"I hope she is still asleep, my lady," said old Phoebe.

But she was not aslee