“Oh, my love,” she said, “no tears yet!  Oh, if I could see you as I have seen Norah!  Speak to me, Magdalen—­try if you can speak to me.”

She tried, and spoke: 

“Norah,” she said, “feels no remorse.  He was not serving Norah’s interests when he went to his death:  he was serving mine.”

With that terrible answer, she put her cold lips to Miss Garth’s cheek.

“Let me bear it by myself,” she said, and gently closed the door.

Again Miss Garth waited at the threshold, and again the sound of the rustling dress passed to and fro—­now far, now near—­to and fro with a cruel, mechanical regularity, that chilled the warmest sympathy, and daunted the boldest hope.

The night passed.  It had been agreed, if no change for the better showed itself by the morning, that the London physician whom Mrs. Vanstone had consulted some months since should be summoned to the house on the next day.  No change for the better appeared, and the physician was sent for.

As the morning advanced, Frank came to make inquiries from the cottage.  Had Mr. Clare intrusted to his son the duty which he had personally performed on the previous day through reluctance to meet Miss Garth again after what he had said to her?  It might be so.  Frank could throw no light on the subject; he was not in his father’s confidence.  He looked pale and bewildered.  His first inquiries after Magdalen showed how his weak nature had been shaken by the catastrophe.  He was not capable of framing his own questions:  the words faltered on his lips, and the ready tears came into his eyes.  Miss Garth’s heart warmed to him for the first time.  Grief has this that is noble in it—­it accepts all sympathy, come whence it may.  She encouraged the lad by a few kind words, and took his hand at parting.

Before noon Frank returned with a second message.  His father desired to know whether Mr. Pendril was not expected at Combe-Raven on that day.  If the lawyer’s arrival was looked for, Frank was directed to be in attendance at the station, and to take him to the cottage, where a bed would be placed at his disposal.  This message took Miss Garth by surprise.  It showed that Mr. Clare had been made acquainted with his dead friend’s purpose of sending for Mr. Pendril.  Was the old man’s thoughtful offer of hospitality another indirect expression of the natural human distress which he perversely concealed? or was he aware of some secret necessity for Mr. Pendril’s presence, of which the bereaved family had been kept in total ignorance?  Miss Garth was too heart-sick and hopeless to dwell on either question.  She told Frank that Mr. Pendril had been expected at three o’clock, and sent him back with her thanks.