Fordham had seemed tired at first, but as it became cooler, had roused himself, seated himself at his writing-table, and made one by one the inscriptions in the volumes, including all their party of travellers, even Janet and Bobus; Reeves, who had been their binder, Mrs. Evelyn’s maid, and one or two intimate friends-—such as Mr. Ogilvie and his sister-—and almost all had some kind little motto or special allusion written below the name, and the date.  It had thus taken a long time, and Fordham leant back so weary that Allen wanted him to leave the addressing of the books, when wrapped up, to him and Armine; but he said there were some he wished to direct himself, and he was in the act of asking Bobus’ right address, when a cough seized him, and Allen instantly saw cause to ring for Reeves.  The last thing that Armine had seen was a wave of the hand to hasten his own departure, as Allen despatched him for his mother, and gave orders for the summoning of others more needed, but who might not be fetched so promptly.

Then Jock had time to question whether Barbara ought to go on with him and Armine to the door, but there was a sound in her “Let me!  I must!” that they could not withstand; and they walked on in absolute silence, except that Jock said Reeves knew exactly what to do.

Dr. Medlicott’s carriage was at the door, and on their ringing, they were silently beckoned into the dining-room, where their mother came to them.  She could not speak at first, but the way in which she kissed Barbara told them how it was.  All had been over before she reached the house.  Dr. Medlicott had come, but could do nothing more than direct Allen how to support the sufferer as he sank, with but little struggle, while a sudden beam of joy and gladness lit up his face at the last.  There had been no word from the first.  By the time the flow of blood ceased, the power of speech was gone, and there was thus less reason to regret the absence of the nearest and dearest.

Mrs. Brownlow said she must await their return with Allen, who was terribly shocked and overcome by this his first and sudden contact with death.  John, too, had better remain for his sister’s sake, but the others had better go home.

“Yes, my child, you must go,” she said, laying her hand on the cold ones of Barbara, who stood white, silent, and stunned by the shock.

“Oh, don’t make me,” said a dull, dreamy, piteous voice.

“Indeed you must, my dear.  It would only add to the pain and confusion to have you here now.  They may like to have you to-morrow.  Remember, he is not here.  Take her, Jock.  Take care of her.”

The coming of Sir James Evelyn at that moment gave Babie the impulse of movement, and Dr. Medlicott hurrying out to offer the use of his carriage, made her cling to Jock, and then to sign rather than speak her desire to walk with her brothers.

Swiftly and silently they went along the streets on that June night in the throng of carriages carrying people to places of amusement, the wheels surging in their ears with the tramp and scuffle of feet on the pavement like echoes from some far-off world.  Now and then there was a muffled sound from Armine, but no word was spoken till they were within their own door.