For two days she hovered on the brink of the grave, and nothing but the
indomitable will to live saved her, the doctors said. On the third day
she rallied wonderfully, and some purpose seemed to gift her with
unnatural strength. Evening came, and the house was very still, for all
the sad bustle of preparation for Sir Richard's funeral was over, and he
lay for the last night under his own roof. Hester sat in the darkened
chamber of her mistress, and no sound broke the hush but the low lullaby
the nurse was singing to the fatherless baby in the adjoining room. Lady
Trevlyn seemed to sleep, but suddenly put back the curtain, saying
abruptly, "Where does he lie?"

"In the state chamber, my lady," replied Hester, anxiously watching the
feverish glitter of her mistress's eye, the flush on her cheek, and the
unnatural calmness of her manner.

"Help me to go there; I must see him."

"It would be your death, my lady. I beseech you, don't think of it,"
began the woman; but Lady Trevlyn seemed not to hear her, and something
in the stern pallor of her face awed the woman into submission.

Wrapping the slight form of her mistress in a warm cloak, Hester
half-led, half-carried her to the state room, and left her on the
threshold.

"I must go in alone; fear nothing, but wait for me here," she said, and
closed the door behind her.

Five minutes had not elapsed when she reappeared with no sign of grief
on her rigid face.