We none of us liked to go up -- not one of us. But at
last three of us went up together -- Cook, me, and
Ponting -- and listened at the door. But try our hardest,
as we did, we could hear nothing. It was the stillness
of death!"

"Yes," said Ponting, her voice sinking to a whisper,
"that's what it was. For when at last I opened the
door, there lay my poor mistress all huddled up in the
chair, just as she had fallen back. We sent for the
doctor at once, but he said there was nothing to be
done -- that her heart had just stopped. He said it
might have happened any time in the last two years,
or she might have lived on for quite a long time, if all
had gone on quiet and serene."

"We've left the Bible just as it was," said Howse
slowly. "It's just covered over, so that the Major, if
ever he _should_ come home again, though I fear that's
very unlikely" -- he dolefully shook his head -- "may
see what it was her eyes last rested on. Major Guthrie,
if you would excuse me for saying so, ma'am, has
always been a far more religious gentleman than his
mother was a religious lady. I feel sure it would comfort
him to know that just before her end she was
reading the Book."

"It was open at the twenty-second Psalm," added
Ponting, "and when I came in that time and saw her
without her seeing me, she must have been just reading
the verse about the dog."

"The dog?" said Mrs. Otway, surprised.

"Yes, madam. 'Deliver my soul from the sword:
my darling from the power of the dog.'"

Howse here chimed in, "Her darling, that's the
Major, and the dog is the enemy, ma'am."

[[193]]

p192 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p193w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p194

v?