her suddenly, as it takes young children weary with their play.
Though it is all over now, though no further watching is
required, Mrs. Crayford still keeps her place by the bedside, too
anxious and too wakeful to retire to her own room.

On other occasions, she is accustomed to dismiss from her mind
the words which drop from Clara in the trance. This time the
effort to dismiss them is beyond her power. The words haunt her.
Vainly she recalls to memory all that the doctors have said to
her, in speaking of Clara in the state of trance. "What she
vaguely dreads for the lost man whom she loves is mingled in her
mind with what she is constantly reading, of trials, dangers, and
escapes in the Arctic seas. The most startling things that she
may say or do are all attributable to this cause, and may all be
explained in this way." So the doctors have spoken; and, thus
far, Mrs. Crayford has shared their view. It is only to-night
that the girl's words ring in her ear, with a strange prophetic
sound in them. It is only to-night that she asks herself: "Is
Clara present, in the spirit, with our loved and lost ones in the
lonely North? Can mortal vision see the dead and living in the
solitudes of the Frozen Deep?"



Chapter 14.


The night had passed.

Far and near the garden view looked its gayest and brightest in