THE CHAPEL Maggie woke next morning to a strange silence.

Many were the silent mornings that had greeted her at St.Dreots, but this was silence with a difference; it was the silence, she was instantly aware, of some one whose very soul was noise and tumult.

She listened, and the sudden chirping of some sparrows beyond her window only accentuated the sense of expectation.

She had never, in all her days, been so conscious of Sunday.
She was almost afraid to move lest she should break the spell.
She lay in bed and thought of the preceding evening.

Her fainting fit seemed to her now more than ever unfortunate; it had placed her at a disadvantage with them all.