Molly lit her candle; she took down a book of history from her shelves, and tried in vain to read; her eyes followed the printed words without in the least taking in their sense.

"'In tracing the history of nations,'" she read, "'we discover a threefold purpose——'"

"Kate, dear; oh, beautiful Kate!" cried Molly's heart.

The book seemed full of Kate; all the ancient story sank down into the depths of the paper, and Kate's history and Kate's danger seemed alone to fill the closely written pages. Molly shut up the book, and clasped her hands.

"How I wish Cecil would come to me!" she moaned once or twice.

The little clock on her mantelpiece struck the hour of midnight. The sound was echoed outside by the big cathedral clock, then the chimes rang out. Molly shuddered as she thought of the cathedral, where she had prayed, and of her vow to God. Perhaps God was angry with her for trying to make a sort of compact with him. Oh, what was right? What was the good of prayer? If one could not pray in one's extremity, what was one to do? Molly felt frightened as she remembered her vow. Oh, why did not Cecil come to her? How could she keep her senses, lying there in her little bed, while Kate was perhaps traveling along that valley from which there was no return? Molly wondered, as the night went on, if Kate would be afraid to die, but then she remembered that Kate would know nothing about it until after she was dead. She wondered if she would be frightened then, and how her spirit would feel without her body. She wondered if the old grandfather, who was so good and noble and sweet, would come to meet the girl he loved in the other world, and would lead her gently away up to the throne of God himself. And then she wondered if God would smile at poor Kate, and tell her that he had thought over everything, and saw quite clearly that her life down here would be too full of struggle, and so he had called her early to a happier home.

Here Molly's reflections caused her to burst into bitter sobs. She was sobbing loudly when her room door was suddenly opened, and Cecil came in.

"Oh, Cecil, Cecil! what news!" cried Molly. "Oh, Cecil, how I have longed for you! do tell me quickly what news, what has happened? Cecil, is she—is she dead?"

"No," said Cecil; "no!"

"Oh, come and sit by me, Ceci, and put your arms round me, I am so miserable, and so, so frightened! Come over here; let me feel your touch."

"Why, you want some sal volatile; you are quite unstrung," said Cecil.

"But oh, do tell me what news!"

"Well, they are going to perform the operation."

"Oh, isn't it over yet?"

"No; they are just going to begin."

"And have you been sent away?"

"Yes; I can do nothing further. Miss Leicester is there, and Miss Forester has come."

"Oh, I can't, can't stand it!" said Molly. "Suppose she wakes and screams—suppose it hurts her frightfully."

"No, it won't, they are going to give her chloroform. Molly, you must try and control yourself. It is selfish, too, to make a fuss just now."

"I know it is," said Molly; "but I have been alone so long, and I have got so fearfully nervous. I don't mind half so much now you are here. You will stay with me, won't you, Cecil?"

"I will, if you like; I will lie down beside you, if you like."

"Oh, I can't sleep; I can't think of it! Do talk to me. What did Sir John Williamson say?"

"I don't know; I did not hear. They are going to perform the operation; it will take a little over an hour."

"And then?" said Molly.

"Then they will know," answered Cecil.

"Oh, Cecil! how soon after?"

"Very soon, Miss Forester says. I heard her telling Miss Leicester that Dr. Williamson is certain there is a small piece of bone pressing on the brain. If that can be successfully removed without injuring the brain in any way, Kate will recover consciousness, and then there is no reason why she should not quickly get better."

"Do you think she'll get better, Cecil?"

"How can I say? I hope so."

"Have you—have you prayed about it, Cecil?"

"Yes, of course."

"So have I," continued Molly; "I prayed in church. I can't believe it was a very good prayer, and I can't make it any better. Miss Leicester prayed too, but she prayed differently. Miss Leicester said: 'Thy will be done.' I did not say that. I—I made a vow."

"Dear little Molly," said Cecil, "I never saw you so excited in all your life before. What vow did you make?"

"I promised to give myself up to God. I thought I would go as a missionary, or something, if only he would make Kate well. Was it wrong of me to pray like that, Cecil?"

"I don't know," answered Cecil.

She sat quiet and still on the edge of Molly's bed. Her strong face was quite pale, her eyes were calm and steadfast, her lips wore a gentle, chastened sort of look. Molly, who was in a fever of excitement and misery, could not help gazing at her in wonder.

"Are you not very anxious?" she asked.

"To a certain extent I am, Molly, but there is no use in losing my self-control. I don't think we two girls can do anything more in this matter, just now. If you don't rest, you will be ill; and that will cause a lot of fresh trouble and misery to a great many people. I will give you a little sal volatile, and then you must lie down, and I will hold your hand, and perhaps you will fall asleep."

"I can't sleep."

"You must try. I won't stay with you, if you talk any more."

"Oh, then, I'll stay perfectly quiet! but I know I shan't sleep."

Cecil prepared the sal volatile, and bringing it to Molly's side, made her drink it. Then she straightened the bed-clothes, and, laying her cool hand on Molly's hot forehead, sat down beside her. In spite of herself the tired girl's heavy eyes closed, and she slept.

It was quite early in the morning when she awoke. Cecil was still seated by her bedside. She started up with a cry.

"Oh, Cecil, what has happened? Is she—is she alive? I have been dreaming about her all night. Have you—have you heard anything?"

"No; but we might go and inquire now," said Cecil.

Molly sprang eagerly out of bed.

"Oh, you darling! Let us go immediately!" she cried.

She put on her dressing gown, and, taking Cecil's hand, stole softly with her out of the room. The long corridors were all deserted; the first dawn of the cold daylight was creeping in through the windows; the cheerful house looked ghastly and deserted. Molly shivered as she accompanied Cecil to the door of Kate's room. The girls had just reached the door when Dr Groves came out.

"Oh, sir!" cried Molly, "oh, please tell me——"

"Tell you what, my dear?" said the doctor kindly.

"Is she—is she dead?" said Molly.

"Dead? Not a bit of it," said the doctor. "I am glad to tell you that my patient is better this morning. Oh, my dear child, what is the matter? Pray don't make any noise outside this door."

For Molly had burst into such a choking fit of sobs that her self-control was in danger of giving way.