They could hear footsteps ascending the narrow stairs. The gleam of a candle preceded them. Langley tottered feebly to the head of the staircase; but Mrs. Chester did not see her.
"Where is she? where is my child?" she said, putting out her hands and feeling before her, with the gesture of a sleep-walker, or one stricken suddenly blind; and Queenie, moved with sudden compassion, sprang forward and guided her to the door.
"Little Nan is there," she said. "He is sitting by her; we cannot get him to leave her."
Yes; he was sitting there in the same attitude in which they had left him, with the child's dead hand still clasped in his. At the sight of that bowed figure, that mute despair, the wife's heart woke into sudden life, and she walked feebly towards him.
"Harry," she said, bursting into tears, and throwing her arms round his neck, "my poor Harry, it is our little child; mine as well as yours. We must comfort each other."
CHAPTER XIII.
"I KNEW YOU WOULD BE SORRY FOR US."
"When they see her their tears will cease to flow,
Lest they should fall on this pure pale brow,
Or the lilies the child is holding.
With symbol flowers in stainless hand,
She goes by the great white throne to stand,
Where Jesus His lambs is folding."
Helen Marion Burnside.
As the door closed upon the bereaved parents, Queenie heard a low "Thank God" behind her, and immediately afterwards Langley crept softly away. When Queenie went back to her, she found her lying on her bed shedding tears quietly. The strained and fixed expression of her face had relaxed; the worn nerves and brain had at last found relief.
"Let me cry, it will do me good," she said, when the girl would have hushed her. "If you only knew how long it is since I have been able to shed a tear. I felt as though I were turning into stone. But now—ah, if she will only be good to him I think I could bear anything."