“Mother, now sing me to rest, For the long, long day is done; Fold me to sleep on thy breast As the night folds up the sun. “For my heart is heavy with fears. And my feet are aweary with play; Hide me from life’s lengthened years-- Fold me from weeping away. “These flowers, so blessed and sweet, I’ve gathered from far and from near; I lay them all down at thy feet-- They are wet with many a tear. “But, mother, now sing me to rest, Take back the lone child, tired with playing; Fold me to sleep on thy breast-- All the day long vainly straying.” The soft hush of silence that fell as Effie’s voice died away was broken by a shrill and piercing scream. Mrs. Rodney had sprung to her feet with a strength no one had believed her possessed of. She stood erect in the center of the floor, her slim forefinger pointed at the window, her eyes wildly dilating, her face pale and agitated, while shriek after shriek burst from her writhing lips: “Aline! Aline! Aline!” Every one turned to the spot indicated by that quivering forefinger. Every eye beheld a wild white face with dark dilated eyes and streaming hair, pressed for a moment against the window-pane. Then, while they yet gazed, it was swiftly withdrawn and vanished in the darkness and the falling rain like a phantom of the night. Effie’s voice rang out wild and horror-stricken above her mother’s piercing wails: “A ghost! A ghost! Ah, now I know that our poor Aline is dead!” Dr. Anthony stood for a moment like one rooted to the spot. He had recognized on the instant the beautiful pale face of the mysteriously wounded girl in the blue room. It was true, then, as he had believed. She was no other than Aline Rodney. He stood still a moment like one stupefied, then, turning suddenly, rushed to the door, flung it open, and disappeared in the rain and darkness of the wild autumn night. Mr. Rodney, after one moment of dazed indecision, flung down his book and rushed after him. Effie flew to her mother’s arms. “Oh, mamma, she is dead, Aline is dead--our dear, dear little Aline!” she sobbed, in a passion of despair. Little Max, awakened by the sound of their anguished voices, ran to them and added his frightened voice to the tumult of the scene. Mrs. Rodney continued to wail heart-brokenly. “Aline! Aline! Aline! Oh, I am justly punished for my harshness to you! It was your ghost looking in at the window just as you looked down at me that day from the window of the room where I had locked you! Oh, my child, my poor dead darling, forgive, forgive, forgive! Come back to me, Aline, and tell me you will forgive me!” As if in answer to her passionate appeals, the door was flung suddenly open again, and Mr. Rodney and Dr. Anthony re-entered the room. They walked slowly, for they carried a wet and dripping burden between them, which they laid upon the floor at Mrs. Rodney’s feet. CHAPTER XVIII.