where and how I should get a light. I could remeinber no place where the matches stood but in my own room. I put out my hands and guided myself by the rough boarding across the chamber, to my door. I stumbled over something lying just inside it; trembling and almost senseless with fear, I put down my hand. It was only an overturned foot-stool. I was in the presence of I knew not what horror; my hand might touch it the next minute. I groped along to the dressing-table where the match-box stood; too bewildered to be careful I guided my hand badly, and struck over a china vase which fell with a crash to the floor; the sound seemed frightful to me in my excited state. I listened for some terrible result.

"It will wake the children," I thought; but a heavy, dumb silence fell. I could hear the beating of my heart. At last I reached the matches, but my hand shook so, I could not make a light till I had tried many times. The candle stood near-another moment—and the faint, reassuring light flickered under my eyes. I looked around. There was the overturned footstool and the broken vase; there was nothing else out of place. I must go to the children. It was in the nursery that Sophia had uttered that first awful shriek; ah! what was I to see? The children-I must get to them.

I made my way back across the open chamber to where Sophia lay. Where was Rex? why did he not bark? why was it so awfully still? As I went, the faintly-lighted candle flickered with the motion, and threatened to go out. I put my hand before it. Sophia had struck her arm as she fell; there was a little trickle of blood across the hand that lay outstretched

upon the sill. I stepped over it, and stood inside the room. Breathlessly I held up the candle, and glanced around. It was all in the order in which I had left it four hours before; nothing seemed out of place. There were Maidy's shoes upon the chair, and Baby's snowy, folded clothes, and the tiny sack hanging on the back; the sponges, the towels, all as I had seen them then. Had Sophia lost her reason? What mystery was I surrounded by?

I drew a deeper breath, but with a palpitating heart came near the children's cribs. I saw the blankets were disarranged; Baby lay half-uncovered. I went in between the cribs, and stooped down eagerly, holding the candle low.

There lay my Baby; her little head thrown back upon the pillow, her lips apart, her limbs drawn up; around her slender throat a slight darkening of the flesh, as of a violent, compressing hand. The arm that lay upon the coverlid was strangely cold. I put my hand upon her heart; the flesh was cold; there was no motion. I held the flame before her lips; it did not flicker.

Maidy's body lay outstretched, her face down upon the pillow, which was bent about it, as if it had been held together; her curls were tangled and torn, a great handful of loose hair lay upon the blanket; her arms, relaxed, lay at her sides. She was quite cold.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE COURT-ROOM.

"From its intensity of aim

Our whole life aimless seemed;

The very stern reality

Made us almost think we dreamed."

Faber.

"COLONEL, we're all ready now, if you'll tell the

carriage to come round; it is quite time," and Sophia opened the door, and put her head into the next room to the one where I sat. It was a large, old-fashioned room, with a low ceiling. The furniture was common and plain, such as one usually finds in country inns. An air-tight stove filled with hard coal, made the air detestable. It was quite unnecessary, for it was only October, and the day was not unusually cold. It had been lighted, however, for my comfort, and I did not think of making a complaint. The colonel came anxiously forward into the room, followed by his wife.

"The carriage is at the door," he said. "Now take my arm. Do you think you feel quite able?”

Mrs. Emlyn was looking at me with unspeakable solicitude. Sophia went upon the other side of me, her eyes upon my face with leaden scrutiny.

"Put that other bottle of salts in your pocket," she

[220]

said, looking back at Mrs. Emlyn, who had fallen behind; "it's best to be on the safe side; we might get separated."

The colonel leaned down every minute to look at me. It gave me a feeling of dreadful irritation to be so watched. When we got into the lower hall, and were going towards the front door, Sophia took hold of my veil.

"Aren't you going to put it down?" she said.

My arm was over it. I held it tight in its position, and made no answer. Outside there were only a few people standing about; they had not known that we were there. The colonel put me in the carriage, his wife beside me, Sophia and himself on the seat opposite. The fresh air revived me; I leaned back and looked out. It was a strange village, or rather town; the county town, in fact; there were a good many shops, and some pretentious houses with cupolas and baywindows close to the street. It seemed all very quiet; there was very little stir.

"Did she eat any breakfast?" said the colonel, in a low tone, to Sophia.

Sophia shook her head.

"She won't make the

effort. There is no use in talking to her."

Mrs. Emlyn made her an imperious sign to stop. She was the only one who understood that I needed to be let alone. My eyes rested on Sophia's face, while she covered her annoyance by busying herself taking a key off a bunch that she took out from her pocket. Her black clothes made her face look very pale, and her hair, which, a month ago, had been but very slightly gray, was now as white as snow. There were dark circles round her eyes; her face was most striking;

her lips had a feverish look; there were deep lines about her firmn-set mouth.

The kind colonel looked aged and worn. His manner was a little flurried, though he spoke with great coolness and precision. Mrs. Emlyn had a look of such intense self-repression that it was painful to meet her eye. She spoke little, and seemed ever to be guarding me from the words of others.

When we approached the court-house, I saw why the rest of the town had seemed quiet. Vehicles of all sorts and kinds stood thick around it; all the posts, and fences, and trees in sight, had horses tied to them. Men were coming and going in through the wide open door, boys were swarming round the windows, looking in. We drove to a side door, and no one noticed us. An officious deputy in black clothes, who had been waiting for us, came forward alertly, and opened the door of the carriage.

"All right, this way," he said.

I put down my great sweeping crape veil, and Sophia looked relieved.

"This way," he said, going forward. "Would the lady like a glass of water?" he added, as we entered a sort of ante-room. I shook my head.

"It's always handy in the court-room," he said. "I always keep it handy. You've only to look at me if you feel faint, and you'll have a glass of water quick as wink."

"She isn't going to feel faint," said Mrs. Emlyn, standing between him and me.

"Of course not, of course not," he said. "Only it wouldn't be to wonder at after all she has gone through." Then he went forward and cleared the way for us;