"0, Miss Margaret! I'm afraid——"

I cannot remember how I reached his room. I
have a confused idea of her huddling a great
cloak over my shoulders, and of the chilly feeling
of the oaken boards to my bare feet. I had
hardly made a step across the threshold of
my uncle's chamber, when a strong gentle grasp
was laid on my arm, and I heard Dr. Dixon's
voice, saying:

"One moment, my dear Miss Sedley. Stay
one instant to collect your strength."

"Dr. Dixon, let me go to him. He is ill;
he wants me. You must not keep me from
him!"

"My dear Miss Sedley, believe me, I would
not do so, if your presence could be of use or
comfort to him. But—be composed, I beseech
of you—he——"

I broke from him and advanced to the
bed. O, my beloved guardian and benefactor!
No passionate tone of the voice he had listened
to so often, no loving touch of the hand he had
held in his generous protecting clasp, could
stir him now. Dead, dead.

I was not unsupported in this heavy hour.
Our old doctor was kind and friendly, and Mr.
Norcliffe responded with instant promptitude
to the hasty summons I sent him. They agreed
that some affection of the heart had been the
immediate cause of my uncle's death, and that, it
must have been peaceful and painless. He had
passed away in sleep, they believed, for he was
lying quite placidly on his undisturbed pillow
when they found him in the morning, lifeless
and cold. There had been no change
made in his will. With the exception of some
legacies to the servants, I was left absolute
mistress of the property.

"I know," said I to Mr. Norcliffe, "that he
meant to make some provision for Anna and her
boy. I am thankful to remember now, that his
last words to me were words of softening
towards Anna."

"I believe as you do, Margaret," said Mr.
Norcliffe, " that he so intended. But the alteration
has not been made. Whatever portion of
your uncle's money goes to Mrs. Lee now, she
must receive from your hand."

"I will hold it in trust for her," I answered.
And we said no more.

CHAPTER XIV.

"SOME one wants you, please, Miss
Margaret."

Hester's thin straight form stood in the
doorway, and Hester's thin high voice spoke
to me. I was sitting, very dreary and forlorn,
in the old morning-room. The fire had died
down to a dull red; the sky was leaden and
lowering; winter was without the house, and
grief within. Only yesterday, they had carried
away its master, never to return. The last
journey across the home threshold had been
made; that journey which we must all make
some day, and which leaves those who remain
behind, so desolate. Mr. Norcliffe was staying
with Dr. Dixon, and they had both gone
home, and left me for the evening. I was
sitting solitary and sad, as I have said, by the
low fire, with a sensation of utter loneliness, and
a yearning void in my heart, when I was roused
by Hester's, "Some one wants you, please, Miss
Margaret."

"Wants me, Hester? Who is it?"

"They asked for master first, please, miss,"
said Hester, putting her apron to her eyes,
"and I said as there was—as there was—was
no one here but you."

A tremor in her usually measured tones
roused my attention, deadened and dead though
all my senses seemed to be, with much crying.

"Who is it, Hester?"

"0, Miss Margaret, would you step into the
dining-room, please? I couldn't bring myself
to tell her. Will you, please, step into the
dining-room?"

I got up and followed her with a confused
dizzy feeling, and a strange doubt of my own
identity, if I may so express the sensation
which I have experienced once or twice on
occasions of strong emotion. The dining-
parlour was without even the dull fire which burned
in the morning-room. Its air struck cold and
damp. Some leafless boughs in the garden,
bedropped with sleet, tapped like elfin fingers
on the window-pane. A woman, dressed in the
deepest mourning, was sitting in the arm-chair
—my uncle's chair—at the end of the room.
She rose up on my entrance. "I want to see
my uncle," she said.

"Anna!"

She put out one hand to hold me off, as I
rushed towards her, and then I saw that she
held a little sleeping child, wrapped in her
shawl. "I want to see my uncle. Do you
mean to keep me from him?"

"0, Anna, Anna, for your own sake do not
speak so harshly. My poor girl, rny poor love
—too late, too late!"

She staggered, and Hester, who had come
with me into the room, made a step forward, as
if to relieve her of the child. But she clasped
him tighter, and leaned on the chair behind her
for support.

"Too late! What do you. mean?" I could
barely hear the words, her voice was so low and
faint.

"Anna, he is dead. He was buried yesterday."

She sank down into the great chair, and the
little child rolled from her arm, as its grasp
relaxed, on to her knee; but Hester took him and
laid him, still half asleep, upon the sofa, while
I busied myself with my sister. She had
swooned. I called the other women-servants,
and by degrees we revived her, and half carried,
half supported, her to my own chamber, where
we undressed her and laid her on the bed. She
resigned herself to our hands, but uttered no
word, and her wan face was motionless and
rigid. After a time, I sent the others away,
and sat by her side, silently watching. A dim
light from the shaded lamp fell on her face,
and, as I looked at it, it seemed as if the years