The rustling ceased; the door was opened, and the sad young face confronted her, locked in its cold despair; the large light eyes looked mechanically into hers, as vacant and as tearless as ever.
That look wrung the heart of the faithful woman, who had trained her and loved her from a child.

She took Magdalen tenderly in her arms.
"Oh, my love," she said, "no tears yet! Oh, if I could see you as I have seen Norah! Speak to me, Magdalen--try if you can speak to me." She tried, and spoke: "Norah," she said, "feels no remorse.

He was not serving Norah's interests when he went to his death: he was serving mine." With that terrible answer, she put her cold lips to Miss Garth's cheek.
"Let me bear it by myself," she said, and gently closed the door.
Again Miss Garth waited at the threshold, and again the sound of the rustling dress passed to and fro--now far, now near--to and fro with a cruel, mechanical regularity, that chilled the warmest sympathy, and daunted the boldest hope.
The night passed.

It had been agreed, if no change for the better showed itself by the morning, that the London physician whom Mrs.Vanstone had consulted some months since should be summoned to the house on the next day.

No change for the better appeared, and the physician was sent for.
As the morning advanced, Frank came to make inquiries from the cottage.
Had Mr.Clare intrusted to his son the duty which he had personally performed on the previous day through reluctance to meet Miss Garth again after what he had said to her?
It might be so.