Her husband was away. Oh! how she wished she could see him or hear his firm, yet for the last few days mournful step. Her heart had taken a strange fear, which she could neither shake off, nor subdue; a trembling nervous dread of some fast-coming evil. Mr. Linchmore came up the drive, and for a moment a joyous thrill crept through her as she thought it was her husband; but no, he came nearer still, then disappeared up the terrace with Mr. Hall, and only the groom with the pony carriage was left, standing quietly as it had stood ever since she had so eagerly strained her eyes from the window. Then once again--as it had done long, long ago--that strange, dull tramp from without smote her ear. Meanwhile, Anne had nerved her heart as well as she could, and gone sorrowfully enough to break the sad news to Amy. Not finding her either in her own or Miss Strickland's room, she guessed she was in poor Bertie's: besides, she missed the white cross. "Oh! Tom!" she said, going back to her husband, "What can I do? She is with her poor dead child, surely I need not; and indeed I feel I cannot go there and tell her." "No," replied Mr. Hall, after a moment's consideration, "perhaps it will be best to try and get Vavasour into his room without her knowledge. I think with caution it might be done. Go and remain near the nursery door, Anne; they will not have to pass it on their way up, and I will go and enjoin silence and caution." Anne sped away, and took up the post assigned her, listening eagerly, yet fearfully for the sound of the muffled footsteps, and straining her ears in the direction of the stairs, so that Amy stood before her, almost ere she had heard the opening of the door. Anne saw at once Amy guessed at some disaster, for she gently but firmly resisted Anne's endeavours to arrest her footsteps, and said, while she trembled excessively, "My husband! Is he dead?" "No. Oh no! Amy darling." Then as Amy would have passed on, she whispered, in a voice she in vain attempted to steady, "Don't go there Amy! pray don't!" But Amy paid no heed, but went and stood at the head of the stairs on the landing. In vain Mr. Linchmore and Mr. Hall gently tried to induce her to leave; she was deaf to reason. "I must be here," she murmured, with pale compressed lips, "I must be here." There was no help for it; so they bore him up slowly past her on into his room, and laid him on the bed, and there left him. "Do you think he will die?" asked Amy, fearfully, as she grasped old Dr. Bernard's arm tightly, some time later as he sat by the fire. How he felt for her, that old man, she so young, and so full of sorrow. He drew her hand in his, and stroked it gently and kindly. "Trust in God, and hope," was the reply. "I do trust," she replied, firmly. "I _will_ try and hope. But, oh! I love him! I love him!" she said. And this was the one cry for ever, if not on her lips, at her heart.