"I think," said Mr. Haveloc, looking at Mrs. Fitzpatrick, "I had better ring for Mrs. Grant." "Who's that?" asked Aveline quickly. "It was I who spoke," said Mr. Haveloc. "I wished to send for your nurse, for I do not like you to be up at this hour." "No--no; do not move me," said Aveline. "It shall be as you like; but I know you will not sleep here," said Mr. Haveloc. "No more sleep," said Aveline, as if to herself. She remained with her eyes fixed on the ceiling, where, owing to some reflection of the lights, there was a broad luminous spot. There was a long, deep silence. Mrs. Fitzpatrick was praying inwardly. Aveline still remained with her eyes uplifted, breathing short and quick. All at once the stillness was broken by her voice repeating, in a distinct tone-- "'Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff comfort me.'" Those who have watched by a sick person only can tell with what touching solemnity the words of Scripture will appear invested when coming suddenly from their lips in the stillness of night. Mrs. Fitzpatrick's firmness gave way; she burst into tears. Aveline made no remark. She did not seem to notice her companions. At last she said, in allusion to their conversation sometime ago. "But nurse may come." Mrs. Fitzpatrick rang the bell. Mrs. Grant entered; but Aveline was again abstracted. The good old woman sat down behind the sofa, making a sign to them to be silent. She had seen for some days better than any one that the end was approaching. "Is the tide down, Mr. Haveloc?" asked Aveline, with difficulty. Mrs. Grant shuddered. The superstition, respecting the influence of the tides over the dying is well known. She profoundly believed that her young lady would be released when the tide changed. Mr. Haveloc walked to the window, and looked out. The long range of low green rocks, was not yet quite uncovered by the ebbing waves. The moon gleamed over their slippery surface, and the water rose and fell bubbling among their crevices. "Not quite yet," said he coming back to the couch. "Not quite yet," she repeated. Then with a stronger effort, she said, "I wished to thank you both." "My dearest!" said Mrs. Fitzpatrick bending over her. "You are not crying!" said Aveline, trying to draw her hand in a caressing manner over her mother's face; "not for me!" "No, not for you, my child," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "Mamma, it is coming," said Aveline, almost inaudibly. "What, is coming, my love?" asked her mother. Aveline made no answer--all her senses seemed to have failed her at once. "God be praised!" said Mrs. Grant, rising with the dignity, that true emotion always gives: "God be praised! she is now an angel in Heaven!" CHAPTER XIV.