fromit,andtohavetogowhoknowswhere?”

    Andthenmymindmadeitsfirstearefforttoprehendwhathadbeenioitingheavenandhell;andforthefirsttimeitrecoiled,baffled;andforthefirsttimeglangbehind,oneachside,andbeforeit,itsawallroundanunfathomedgulf:itfelttheonepoistood—thepresent;alltherestwasformlesscloudandvatdepth;anditshudderedatthethoughtoft,andplungingamidthatchaos.Whilepthisnewidea,Iheardthefrontdooropen;Mr.Batescameout,andwithhimwasaershehadseenhimmounthishorsea,shewasabouttoclosethedoor,butIranuptoher.

    “HowisHelenBurns?”

    “Verypoorly,”wastheanswer.

    “IsitherMr.Bateshasbeentosee?”

    “Yes.”

    “Andwhatdoeshesayabouther?”

    “Hesaysshe’llnotbeherelong.”

    Thisphrase,utteredinmyhearierday,wouldhaveonlyveyedthenotionthatshewasabouttoberemovedtoNorthumberland,toherownhome.Ishouldnothavesuspectedthatitmeantshewasdying;butIknewinstantlynow!ItopenedclearonmyprehensionthatHelenBurnswasnumberingherlastdaysinthisworld,andthatshewasgoingtobetakentionofspirits,ifsuchregiontherewere.Iexperiencedashockofhorror,thenastrongthrillofgrief,thenadesire—aytoseeher;andIaskedinwhatroomshelay.

    “SheisinMissTemple’sroom,”saidthenurse.

    “MayIgoupaoher?”

    “Ohno,child!Itisnotlikely;andnowitistimeforyoutoein;you’llcatchthefeverifyoustopoutwhenthedewisfalling.”

    Thenurseclosedthefrontdoor;Iwentinbythesideentrancewhichledtotheschoolroom:Iwasjustiwasnineo’clodMissMillerwascallingthepupilstogotobed.

    Itmightbetwohourslater,probablyneareleven,when