Weyburn still knelt. He was warned to quit the formal posture of an exhausted act by the thought, that he had come to reflect upon how he might be useful to his boys in a like calamity. Having risen, he became aware, that for some time of his kneeling Aminta's hand had been on his head, and they had raised their souls in unison. It was a soul's link. They gazed together on the calm, rapt features. They passed from the room. 'I cannot thank you,' he said. 'Oh no; I have the reason for gratitude,' said she. 'I have learnt to know and love her, and hope I may imitate when my time is near.' "She..... at the last?' 'Peacefully; no pain. The breath had not left her very long before you came.' 'I said I cannot; but I must-- 'Do not.' 'Not in speech, then.' They went into the tasteful little sitting-room below, where the stillness closed upon them as a consciousness of loss. 'You have comforted her each day,' he said. 'It has been my one happiness.' 'I could not wish for better than for her to have known you.' 'Say that for me. I have gained. She left her last words for you with me. They were love, love . . . pride in her son: thanks to God for having been thought worthy to give him birth.' 'She was one of the noble women of earth.' 'She was your mother. Let me not speak any more. I think I will now go. I am rarely given to these--' The big drops were falling. 'You have not ordered your carriage?' 'It brings me here. I find my way home.' 'Alone?' 'I like the independence.' 'At night, too!' 'Nothing harmed me. Now it is daylight. A letter arrived for you from High Brent this morning. I forgot to bring it. Yesterday two of your pupils called here. Martha saw them.' Her naming of the old servant familiarly melted him. 'You will not bear to hear praise or thanks.' 'If I deserved them. I should like you to call on Dr. Buxton; he will tell you more than we can. He drove with me the first day, after I had sent you the local doctor's report. I had it from the messenger, his assistant.' Weyburn knew Dr. Buxton's address. He begged her to stay and take some nourishment; ventured a remark on her wasted look. 'It is poor fare in cottages.' 'I have been feeding on better than bread and meat,' she said.' I should have eaten if I had felt appetite. My looks will recover, such as they are. I hope I have grown out of them; they are a large part of the bondage of women. You would like to see me safe into some conveyance. Go up-stairs for a few minutes; I will wait here.' He obeyed her. Passing from the living to the dead, from the dead to the living, they were united in his heart. Her brevity of tone, and her speech, so practical upon a point of need, under a crisis of distress, reminded him of Lady Charlotte at the time of the groom's arrival with her letter. Aminta was in no hurry to drive. She liked walking and looking down on London, she said.