The weary days rolled on in rain and gloom,--Christmas came and went with a weight and dullness never before known in St. Rest. Every Sunday since the accident, Walden had earnestly requested the prayers of his congregation for Miss Vancourt, 'who was seriously ill'--and on Christmas Day, he gave out the same request, with a pathetic alteration in the wording, which as he uttered it, caused many people to sob as they listened.
"The prayers of this congregation," he said--"are desired for Maryllia Vancourt, who has been much beloved among you, and whose life is now in imminent peril!"
A chill seemed to strike through the church,--an icy blast far colder than the wintry wind,--the alabaster sarcophagus in front of the altar seemed all at once invested with a terrible significance,- -death, and death only was the sovereign ruler of the world! And when the children's choir rose to give the 'Hark the herald angels sing, Glory to the new-born King'--their voices were unsteady and fell out of tune into tears.
Maryllia was indeed in 'imminent peril.' She had become suddenly restless, and her suffering had proportionately increased. At the earliest symptom of returning consciousness, the attention of the watchers at her bedside became redoubled;--should she speak, they were anxious to hear the first word that escaped her lips. For as yet, no one knew how she had come by her accident. None of the hunters had seen her fall, and Bennett the groom, stoutly refused to believe that the mare had either missed her jump, or thrown her mistress.
"She couldn't have done it,"--he declared--"And if she could, she wouldn't! She's too sensible, and Miss Vancourt's too sure a rider. Something's at the bottom of it all, and I'd give a good deal to find out what it is, and WHO it is!"
Thus said Bennett, with many dark nods of meaning, and gradually the idea that Maryllia had been the victim of foul play, took root in the minds of all the villagers who heard him. Everyone in the place was on the watch for a clue,--a whisper,--a stray suggestion as to the possible cause of the mischief. But so far nothing had been discovered.
On the night before the last of the year, Maryllia, who had been tossing uneasily all the afternoon, and moaning piteously, suddenly opened her eyes and looked about her with a frightened air of recognition. Cicely, always at hand with the nurse in attendance, went quickly to the bedside in a tremour of hope and fear.