But the light comes nearer; and John, who has turned his master’s horse into the stable, and given him water, comes back, to grope his way to his young mistress on the road, and stand beside her, watching the slow motion of this distant light. Defenceless and open stands the house of Allenders, where children lie asleep, serene and peaceful, worn out with pleasure; and not even the watchers at the gate, amid all their terror and apprehension, have any idea what it is, which comes towards them through the night. What is it? Mysie, hearing some far-off whisper of voices, holds up her lantern, unwitting that the chief light it throws is upon those two behind. Martha, sitting rigid in the carriage, with a face of deadly whiteness on her knee, and her hand pressing upon the heart of the passive, insensible form--pressing against it, as if the frail life needed to be held fast, lest it should glide away. A shrill cry startles the darkness at their side, and Martha only knows they have reached the gate of Allenders, when she hears Harry’s little gentle wife fall heavily upon the ground, and is startled by the cry of Rose. Mysie, frightened and exhausted, stopped the carriage. “Drive on!” said Martha, and her lips spoke the words half-a-dozen times before they broke, shrill and loud, upon Mysie’s terrified ear. “Rose, be calm. John, carry Agnes in. I, myself, will care for Harry; he is alive.” Alive!--but that was all! Candles stood wasting on the hall table, and the cold black air stole in heavily, damp and chill. Upon the stairs, a little white figure called on Martha and Rose, and shivered, and cast looks of terror on the open door. For Violet had been dreaming of Harry--dreaming terrible dreams--and she could not rest. “Let me carry him. I’m stronger than you, and I’ll be as tender as a woman,” pleaded the awe-stricken John. But Martha pushed him aside. “A doctor--a doctor! instantly!” It was all she could say, as she lifted up her burden. It was well for Martha that her frame was strong, and hardly strung; for Mysie, who silently assisted, and supported poor Harry’s feet, left still the great weight of his insensible form in Martha’s arms; and Martha felt the strain when it was over--she knew nothing of it now. Alas, poor Harry!--they laid him on his bed; they clustered round him, the faces which he had seen in his imagination two little hours ago, so fresh and bright. In this room, where the fire was faintly dying, were arranged many little things which Rose had fancied he might want when he came home; but there he lay, with the blood upon his brow, unconscious, silent, with nothing but his heavy breathing to tell them that he was alive.