She seemed only to see Charlie--her all--the whole realm of nature which at that moment she _did_ possess--how the thought thrilled her--she saw him on one side and her crucified Saviour waiting on the other. Waiting--for what? Her soul--her life? She had given them. Ah! for something more--her all! The congregation around her were passing out. She sank slowly on to her knees and hid her face. The Love which had given its all for her had conquered. With her all, she knelt at His feet, and kneeling there she broke her box of ointment of spikenard, very precious, and poured it out. The church was almost empty when she rose and passed out. Charlie was waiting for her in the porch, and Audrey, Gertrude and Cecil were on the steps. Audrey slipped her arm into Denys's. "Wasn't it nice? Didn't you like it?" she whispered. "Very much, oh, very much!" Denys answered. "I did not know you were all there." She gave her arm a little answering pressure. This was the Audrey she had known at Saltmarsh! "That was Cecil," said Audrey gravely. "He said that when there were so many who _didn't_ care, we, who do care, ought to show that we cared! So, of course, we went." When the afternoon came, it was a pleasant and united little party which set out for the walk to the Landslip. As Gertrude observed serenely-- "With neither donkeys nor bicycles we ought to do quite nicely!" and quite nicely they did, Mrs. Henchman arriving in such good condition and spirits that she proposed walking a short distance to see the view while tea was being got ready. Denys held up the little basket of grapes Charlie had given her. "I will take these in to Mrs. Lyon while you are gone," she said. She tapped softly at Mrs. Lyon's door, and before any answer came, the woman with whom she had left her note on the previous day, opened her kitchen door with a scared look in her face. "Oh, Miss!" she said. "Oh, Miss! don't tell any one, but she's gone! Poor dear, she's gone!" "Gone!" echoed Denys. The woman burst into low, restrained weeping. "The visitors mustn't know," she sobbed. "They are afraid of death, but I've been longing and hoping for you all day, Miss. Poor dear, poor dear, she died last night." CHAPTER IX. BROTHERS-IN-LAW. The news of his sister Nellie's death came upon Jim Adams with the suddenness of a thunderclap. The weeks had gone by since she wrote to ask him to take Harry, with no further news of her, and after watching every post for a few days in the expectation of a black-edged envelope, he had begun to think that it was only a scare, and that she was not going to die at all, and it was really a pity that he had had all that bother with Jane! Yet, in spite of this feeling, the incident had done him good in more ways than one.