She laid aside her needlework, looked into her sister’s room, without expecting to see Eve there, then descended and sought Jane, to inquire whether her father had given signs of being awake by knocking. Jane, however, was not in the pantry nor in the kitchen. Jane had not been seen for some time. Then Barbara very softly stole through the hall and tapped at her father’s door. No answer. She opened it and looked in. The room was quite dark. She stood still and listened. She did not hear her father breathe. In some surprise, but hardly yet in alarm, she went for a candle, and returned with it to the room Mr. Jordan occupied. To her amazement and alarm, she found it empty. She ran into the parlour—no one was there. She sought through the house and garden, and stables—not a sign of her father anywhere, and, strangely enough, not of Eve, or of Jane either. Jasper, likewise, had not been seen for some time. Then, in her distress, Barbara rang the alarm-bell, long, hastily, and strongly. When, after the lapse of some while spent in fruitless search, Barbara arrived at the Raven Rock, she was not alone—two or three of the farm labourers and Joseph the policeman were with her. Jane had found her sweetheart on his way to Morwell to visit her. The light of the fire on the Rock, illumining the air above the trees, had attracted the notice of one of the workmen, and now the entire party came on to the Rock as Mr. Jordan had finished his confession, and Jasper, sick at heart, horror-stricken, stood back, speechless, not able to speak. Barbara uttered a cry of dismay when she saw her father, and threw herself on her knees at his side. He made a sign to her to keep back, he did not want her; he beckoned to Jasper. ‘One word more,’ he said in a low tone. ‘My hours are nearly over. Lay us all three together—my wife, my child, and me.’ ‘Papa,’ said Barbara, ‘what do you mean? what is the matter?’ He paid no attention to her. ‘I have told you where _she_ lies. When you have recovered my poor child——’ ‘What child?’ asked Jasper. ‘Eve; what other?’ Jasper did not understand, and supposed he was wandering. ‘He—your brother—leaped off the precipice with her in his arms.’ ‘Papa!’ cried Barbara. ‘She is dead—dashed to pieces—and he too.’ Barbara looked at Jasper, then, in terror ran to the edge. Nothing whatever could be seen. That platform of rock might be the end of the world, a cliff jutting forth into infinite space and descending into infinite abysses of blackness. She leaned over and called, but received no answer. Jasper could hardly believe in the truth of what had been said. Turning to the policeman and servants, he spoke sternly: ‘Mr. Jordan must be removed at once. Let him be lifted very carefully and carried into the house. He has lain here already unsuccoured too long.’ ‘I will not be removed,’ said the old man; ‘leave me here, I shall take no further harm. Go—seek for the body of my poor Eve.’