and pray for strength to bear whatever news you may bring me. Go quickly. I will - wait - and pray!”
So I left the poor child on her knees in that vile cellar, white face and straining hands uplifted to the foul ceiling, sweet lips quivering with prayer, eyelids reverently lowered, and the swift tears flowing from beneath them, all in the yellow light of the lantern that stood burning by her side. How different a picture from that which awaited me overhead!
CHAPTER XIX
MY GREAT HOUR
The library
I might not have to use it, but I was fatalist enough to fancy that I should. In the meantime it helped me to lie still, my thoughts fixed on the night, and the day made easy for me after all.
If only I could sleep!
About nine o’clock Jane Braithwaite paid me a surly visit; in half an hour she was