not leave her alone." And she knew they referred to
herself.

Then it came home to her that possibly her own youth and her difference
of antecedents might somehow encumber arrangements that she knew would
have to be carried out. They would be easiest in her absence. At her own
suggestion she went away to lie down in the bedroom she had occupied.

Granny Marrable followed her. She had something to say.

"Dear Lady, I have to go. God bless you for all your goodness to my
darling sister and to me! You gave her back to me...." That stopped her.

"Oh, Granny, Granny, we have lost her--we have lost her!" She could feel
that old Phoebe's tears were running down the hand she had taken to
kiss, and she drew it away to fold the old woman fairly in her arms, and
kiss the face whose likeness to old Mrs. Picture's she could almost
identify by touch. "We have lost her," she repeated, "and you might have
had her for so long!"

Said Granny Marrable:--"I shall follow Maisie soon, if the Lord's will
is. She might have died, my lady, but for you, unknown to me in London.
And who would have told me where they had laid her?"

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to my granddaughter--Ruth's daughter. It is her fancy to
have me rather than another. There might be harm to her did I stop away.
Why should I delay here, when all is over?"

Why indeed? Still, Gwen could not but reverence and love the old lady
for her unflinching fortitude and resolute sense of duty. She saw her
driven away through the cold night, and went back to her room, leaving
Ruth and Elizabeth the neighbour to make an end in the chamber of Death.

* * * * *

Sleep came, and waking came too soon, in a cold, dark Christmas morning.
Oppression and pain for something not known at once came first, like a
black cloud; then consciousness of what was in the heart of the cloud.

She wrapped herself in a warm dressing-gown, and went out through the
silent house. It was still early, and it might be Ruth was still
sleeping. Once asleep, why not remain so, when waking could only bring
cold and darkness, and the memory of yesterday? Besides, it was not
unlikely Ruth had watched half through the night. Gwen opened the door
of the death-chamber with noiseless caution, and felt as soon as she saw
that the daylight was still excluded, that it was empty of any living
occupant. Dread was in her curiosity to see the thing beneath the white
sheet on the