It was a strange time of suspense.  Alick made Rachel lie on the sofa, and she almost heard the beating of her own heart; he sat by her, trying to seem to read, and his uncle stood by the open window, where the tinkle of a sheep bell came softly in from the meadows, and now and then the hoot of the owl round the church tower made the watchers start.  To watch that calm and earnest face was their great help in that hour of alarm; those sightless eyes, and broad, upraised spiritual brow seemed so replete with steadfast trust and peace, that the very sight was soothing and supporting to the young husband and wife, and when the long strokes of twelve resounded from the church tower, Mr. Clare, turning towards them, began in his full, musical voice to repeat Bishop Ken’s noble midnight hymn—­

“My God, now I from sleep awake,
The sole possession of me take;
From midnight terrors me secure,
And guard my soul from thoughts impure.”

To Rachel, who had so often heard that hour strike amid a tumult of midnight miseries, there was something in these words inexpressibly gentle and soothing; the tears sprang into her eyes, as if she had found the spell to chase the grisly phantoms, and she clasped her husband’s hand, as though to communicate her comfort.

“Oh may I always ready stand,
With my lamp burning in my hand;
May I in sight of Heaven rejoice,
Whene’er I hear the Bridegroom’s voice.”

Mr. Clare had just repeated this verse, when he paused, saying, “They are coming down,” and moved quickly to meet them in the hall.  Alick followed him to the door, but as they entered the dining-room, after a moment’s hesitation, returned to Rachel, as she sat upright and eager.  “After all, this may mean nothing,” he said.

“Oh, we don’t make it better by fancying it nothing,” said Rachel.  “Let us try to meet it like your uncle.  Oh, Alick, it seemed all this time as if I could pray again, as I never could since those sad times.  He seemed so sure, such a rock to help and lean on.”

He drew her close to him.  “You are praying for her!” he murmured, his soul so much absorbed in his sister that he could not admit other thoughts, and still they waited and watched till other sounds were heard.  The London doctor was going away.  Alick sprang to the door, and opened it as his uncle’s hand was on the lock.  There was a mournful, solemn expression on his face, as they gazed mutely up in expectation.

“Children,” he said, “it is as we feared.  This great sorrow is coming on us.”

“Then there is danger,” said Alick with stunned calmness.

“More than danger,” said his uncle, “they have tried all that skill can do.”

“Was it the fall?” said Alick.

“It was my bad management, it always is,” said Rachel, ever affirmative.

“No, dear child,” said Mr. Clare, “there was fatal injury in the fall, and even absolute stillness for the last few hours could hardly have saved her.  You have nothing to reproach yourself with.”