The talk around the fire had gone on so eagerly that the attention of the group was utterly absorbed; and every one started as if an apparition had appeared in their midst, when a slim figure in a dark dress, against which her face looked doubly white, glided noiselessly into the room. With eyes fixed in almost trance-like far-sightedness, she moved towards Brady, and laid her hand upon his sleeve. "My brother," she said, "it is you have risked your life to save mine. God gave you back both. What will you be doing with your share?" "I--I--I'm awfully sorry, don't you know!" stammered Brady, terribly embarrassed; "but it wasn't I who did it." "Here is the man, Miss Costello, to whom you owe your life," said the Doctor, who dearly loved a "situation," turning as he spoke, with a little flourish, to the place where Flint had stood; but that gentleman had taken advantage of the mistake to bolt into the bed-room behind him. He would have bolted into the pond, rather than submit to be thanked publicly in this fashion. "He's gone!" exclaimed Dr. Cricket, in disappointment. "Ah!" said Nora Costello, with a quick, sympathetic smile, "it's verra natural. He did not wish to be thanked. Perhaps he is right. After all, it is to the good God himsel' that our thanks are owing." She knelt on the rug, as simply as she would have taken an offered chair, and spoke to some invisible presence, as naturally as she would have spoken to any of those in the room. Brady was shocked at first, at the conversational tone. It was so realistic that he opened his eyes, half expecting to see the Someone--the Something--so evidently apparent to the girl herself. Having once opened his eyes, he forgot to close them again. The actual so pursued him, that he ceased to seek the spiritual presence. The firelight, playing over the girl's face, threw strange lights, and shadows half unearthly. She seemed a spirit, of whom no ordinary restraints of the familiar social life were to be expected. When her prayer was finished, she rose as simply as she had knelt, though now two large tears stood on the long fringe of her eyes. "Good-night, friends!" she said with a confiding glance around. "I think I shall be able to get the sleep now. God bless you all!" When she was gone, the hush was unbroken for several minutes. At last Winifred spoke. "I don't know how the rest of you feel, but somehow I have a sensation of being a lay figure in the shop-window of life, and having all of a sudden seen a real woman go by." "Jove! what eyes she has!" said Brady, continuing thoughts of his own, rather than answering Winifred's speech. "Really," said Ben Bradford, "it wasn't unpleasant at all."