It came from the other side of the park. Her fears had deceived her. They were coming at last. It must be them. Relieved at last, she drew back from the window, then returned again, but stood further in the shade. They must pass by. She would stay and see them. The sound she had heard became more distinct, then faded away with the wind which blew in gusts through the leafless trees, then grew nearer still. Strange no voices reached her ear,--now--yes, it was near enough for her to distinguish the heavy tread of men's footsteps. Nearer and nearer they came. It was no tread of many feet, but the dull heavy tramp of footsteps treading in unison together. It could not be they; they would not walk like that; so silently, so strangely. Still Amy waited and watched--a heavy fear slowly creeping over her heart, and almost staying its beatings. They came nearer still; yes, onwards they came round the turn of the drive as it swept up to the house; they passed it, and now their dark forms came slowly but surely on in the varying moonlight, with still that one dreadful tread. They were close by; passed under the window where she stood. What was that dark object they carried so fearfully, so carefully? Amy moved away from the window, reached the door of the room, and stood in its deep shade like a statue of stone, every nerve strained, every pulse beating almost to bursting. The servants had heard it then, or had they like Amy been watching? There stood the grey-headed butler; how ominous was his face, how grave the faces of those men near him, all waiting, all dreading--what? Mr. Linchmore was the first to enter; a painful, anxious expression on his face. "Thank God!" exclaimed the old butler, as he saw him; he had been anxious for his master, whom he had known as a boy. Were his fears then at rest? No; he was again about to speak, when,-- "Hush!" Mr. Linchmore said. Then to those behind, "tread softly," and again, "where is your mistress?" He passed quickly on, almost brushing Amy's dress, as she stood so white and still in the shade, looking on, watching, noting everything. The other half of the hall door opened; on they came, those dark forms, and others with them, steadying them, clearing the way for them as they went. They bore a litter, but the form that rested so motionless on it could not be seen, a cloak covered it. One man stood quite close to Amy as he held open the door for the rest to pass through. She touched his arm gently. She tried to speak, but her tongue refused to utter those anxious words. But there was no need; he looked in her face and understood the mute anguish, the agonised look of her eyes. "It's only one of the young gents, Miss. Mr. Vavser I think they calls 'im."