The next thing was, to get ready to receive his report.  That morning’s toilet was soon made, and Elizabeth sat waiting.  He might come soon, or he might not; for it was early, and he might not know whether she was awake and risen yet.  She was unaccustomed, poor child, to a waiting of pain; and her heart felt tired and sore already from the last forty-eight hours of fears and hopes.  Fears and hopes were in strong life now, but a life that had become very tender to every touch.  Clam was setting the breakfast-table —­ Could breakfast be eaten or not?  The very cups and saucers made Elizabeth’s heart ache.  She was glad when Clam had done her work and was gone and she sat waiting alone.  But the breaths came painfully now, and her heart was weary with its own aching.

The little knock at the door came at last.  Elizabeth ran to open it, and exchanged a silent grasp of the hand with the newsbearer; her eyes looked her question.  He came in just as he came last night; calm and grave.

“I can tell you nothing new, Miss Elizabeth,” he said.  “I cannot see that Mr. Haye is any better —­ I do not know that he is any worse.”

But Elizabeth was weak to bear longer suspense; she burst into tears and sat down hiding her face.  Her companion stood near, but said nothing further.

“May I call Clam?” he asked after a few minutes.

Elizabeth gave eager assent; and the act of last night was repeated, to her unspeakable gratification.  She drank in every word, and not only because she drank in the voice with them.

“Breakfast’s just ready, Mr. Winthrop,” said Clam when she was leaving the room; —­ “so you needn’t go up stairs.”

The breakfast was a very silent one on Elizabeth’s part.  Winthrop talked on indifferent subjects; but she was too full-hearted and too sick-hearted to answer him with many words.  And when the short meal was ended and he was about quitting the parlour she jumped up and followed him a step or two.

“Mr. Winthrop —­ won’t you say a word of comfort to me before you go? —­”

He saw she needed it exceedingly; and came back and sat down on the sofa with her.

“I don’t know what to say to you better than this, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, turning over again the leaves of his little bible; —­ “I came to it in the course of my reading this morning; and it comforted me.”

He put the book in her hands, but Elizabeth had to clear her eyes more than once from hot tears, before she could read the words to which he directed her.

“And there shall be a tabernacle for a shadow in the daytime from the heat, and for a place of refuge, and for a covert from storm and from rain.”

Elizabeth looked at it.

“But I don’t understand it, Mr. Landholm?” she said, raising her eyes to his face.

He said nothing; he took the book from her and turning a few leaves over, put it again in her hands.  Elizabeth read; —­