Alas! no. The image evoked by that "voice in the air," had followed her across the threshold, and still faced her with sad, upbraiding eyes. Instinctively, she threw herself upon her knees to exorcise it by the spell of prayer. Though no intelligible word might come to her trembling lips, though not a coherent thought might shape itself in her dizzy brain, she was, nevertheless, prostrate at the foot of the cross, and the Saviour would understand! And so--let us not presume to doubt it--He did, and, moreover, answered. But the ways of Providence are utterly inscrutable; and the answer came in no shape that would have been likely to present itself to her mind, had she been capable of definite thought. She rose from her knees but little comforted. For the delirious disquietude that had taken possession of her, had its physical, not less than its mental, side. The long overstraining of the delicate nerves, the long overburdening of the heart that knew its own bitterness, were fast reaching the point beyond which must needs come fever, or insanity, or death. Nature--often the wisest of physicians, when left to herself--had sought to work restoration by means of the apathy aforementioned, wrapping her mind and heart as with quilted armor; but the events of this night had pierced quite through the soft sheathing, and set every nerve quivering with pain. Unable to remain long in one position, she soon began to pace restlessly up and down the room. She was dimly aware that Rosa had come in, and was waiting her commands; but she never once looked to see with what a disturbed and doubtful face the young negress was regarding her. Getting weary, at last, of her monotonous march to and fro, she went to the window, and leaned out to bathe her fevered temples in the cool night air. Suddenly she cried out;-- "Rosa, see! Is not that a light in the old Hall?" "Yes, Miss Carice, it's just that," answered Rosa, impressively. "It's in Mr. Arling's room. He's here." "Here!" Carice started, and turned round with eager, expectant eyes. "No, no," Rosa hastened to say, "not here,--at least, not now." "Not now," repeated Carice, wonderingly. "When was he here, then?" Rosa hesitated for an instant, and then flung herself at her mistress's feet. "I will tell you," she cried, vehemently,--"master may kill me, if he likes, but I _will_ tell you! Mr. Arling was here not much more than half an hour ago." Carice smiled,--a strange, wan smile, with no spirit of mirthfulness in it, but something of gentle triumph, as well as relief. "It was no fancy, then," she murmured, softly.