She was accustomed to these trances, and even welcomed their coming for the sake of the clear insight and even the clairvoyance which followed them.

They were seasons of refreshing to this strange woman's soul--seasons during which the connecting thread between spirit and body was strained to the utmost, when a rude awakening might easily sever that attenuated thread, when Morva knew that tender handling and shielding care were required of her.

In the evening when she returned from the farm she came singing into the little court, where the gilly flowers and daffodils were once more swaying in the wind, and the much treasured ribes was hanging out its scented pink tassels.

She stopped to gather a spray, and then turning to the door, was confronted by the bunch of rue, at sight of which she instantly ceased her singing and a look of seriousness almost of solemnity came over her face, for the herb had long been a pre-concerted signal between Sara and herself.
She gently pulled the string which lifted the latch, and entered the cottage, treading softly as one does where death has already entered.
The stillness was profound, for it was a calm day and the sea was silent, the fire only crackling on the hearth.

The old cat slept on the spinning bench, and Sara lay there unconscious and dead to all outward surroundings.