It was before nine that the brothers started, but in her own mind Flora gave them to eleven, and when she heard ten o’clock sound from a clock which stood in the hall, she felt pleased to think that in another hour they would surely be at home.

“My dear,” said her mother, “you look more like yourself, now.”

“Do, I, mother?”

“Yes, you are well again.”

“Ah, if I could forget—­”

“Time, my dear Flora, will enable you to do so, and all the fear of what made you so unwell will pass away.  You will soon forget it all.”

“I will hope to do so.”

“Be assured that, some day or another, something will occur, as Henry says, to explain all that has happened, in some way consistent with reason and the ordinary nature of things, my dear Flora.”

“Oh, I will cling to such a belief; I will get Henry, upon whose judgment I know I can rely, to tell me so, and each time that I hear such words from his lips, I will contrive to dismiss some portion of the terror which now, I cannot but confess, clings to my heart.”

Flora laid her hand upon her mother’s arm, and in a low, anxious tone of voice, said,—­“Listen, mother.”

Mrs. Bannerworth turned pale, as she said,—­“Listen to what, dear?”

“Within these last ten minutes,” said Flora, “I have thought three or four times that I heard a slight noise without.  Nay, mother, do not tremble—­it may be only fancy.”

[Illustration]

Flora herself trembled, and was of a death-like paleness; once or twice she passed her hand across her brow, and altogether she presented a picture of much mental suffering.

They now conversed in anxious whispers, and almost all they said consisted in anxious wishes for the return of the brothers and Mr. Marchdale.

“You will be happier and more assured, my dear, with some company,” said Mrs. Bannerworth.  “Shall I ring for the servants, and let them remain in the room with us, until they who are our best safeguards next to Heaven return?”

“Hush—­hush—­hush, mother!”

“What do you hear?”

“I thought—­I heard a faint sound.”

“I heard nothing, dear.”

“Listen again, mother.  Surely I could not be deceived so often.  I have now, at least, six times heard a sound as if some one was outside by the windows.”

“No, no, my darling, do not think; your imagination is active and in a state of excitement.”

“It is, and yet—­”

“Believe me, it deceives you.”

“I hope to Heaven it does!”

There was a pause of some minutes’ duration, and then Mrs. Bannerworth again urged slightly the calling of some of the servants, for she thought that their presence might have the effect of giving a different direction to her child’s thoughts; but Flora saw her place her hand upon the bell, and she said,—­

“No, mother, no—­not yet, not yet.  Perhaps I am deceived.”