ie never knew very well how those days passed. She remembered
running down the lane to meet her sister in the twilight, and the
irresistible impulse that came over her to tell of the terrible fear
that had come upon her as she sat that night with her father's hand on
her head. She called herself foolish and weak, and hastened to tell her
sister how much better he had been through the day, how he had walked
down the garden and enjoyed the sunshine, and how easy and peaceful he
had been since then. But the shadow that had fallen on Effie's face at
her first words did not pass away as she continued to speak; and it was
with eyes opened to see "the beginning of the end" that she came into
her father's chamber.

She did not leave him again. Christie slept on the couch near him; but
all night long Effie sat with her eyes fixed on her father's changing
face. He did not bid her lie down, as he was wont to do. He always
smiled when he met her look, and once he said, "I have much to say to
you, Effie;" but, while she listened for more, he slumbered again. And
so the night passed.

The light of the morning made the change more visible. Sarah saw it
when she came in. They did not need to tell each other what they
feared. When Christie awoke, it was to see the anxious faces of the
three sisters bending over their father. She rose mechanically, and
stood beside them.

"Is he worse?" she asked. "He seems sleeping quietly."

She did not need to say more.

"Annie," said Effie, in a little time, beckoning her sister away from
the bed, "Aunt Elsie must have her breakfast before she is told this;
and the bairns--" Effie's voice failed her for a moment. "We must try
and keep them quiet."

Annie said something in a low voice about the doctor; Effie shook her
head.

"It's of no use," said Effie. "Still, we might send. I'll tell James."
And she went out.

A little after daybreak he seemed to rouse himself for a moment; but he
soon slumbered again. By and by their neighbours, who had heard from
the messenger sent for the doctor that Mr Redfern was worse, came
dropping in. They looked in for a moment upon the group of girls
gathered round their father's bed, and then, for the most part, seated
themselves in the outer room with Aunt Elsie. Mrs Nesbitt and her son
John lingered in the room, and whispered together. In a little while
the mother beckoned to Effie.

"My poor bairn," she said, "if you have anything to say