Maggie remembered what Martha had told her about the drops.She found the little green bottle, saw the glass by the side of it.
Suddenly she heard Aunt Anne: "Oh no...Oh no! God I can't...
God, I can't...I can't."
Maggie bent over the bed; she put her hand behind her aunt's back and could feel the whole body quivering, the flesh damp beneath the night-dress.She steadied her, then put the glass to her lips.
The cry was now a little whisper."No more...I can...no more." Then more softly still: "Thy will, oh Lord.As thou wilt--Our Father, which art in Heaven, Hallowed...Hallowed...Hallowed..."She sank down on to her pillows.
"Is it better?" Maggie asked.
Her aunt caught her hand.
"You mustn't leave me.I shan't live long, but you must stay with me until I go.Promise me! Promise me!""No, I can't promise," said Maggie.
"You must stay.You must stay."
"No I can't promise." Then suddenly kneeling down by the bed she put her hand on the other's arm: "Aunt Anne, I'll do anything for you--anything--to make you better--if I can help...but not a promise, I can't promise.""Ah, but you will stay," Aunt Anne's whisper trembled with its certainty.
That seemed the climax of the night to Maggie then.She felt that she was indeed held for eternity by the house, the Chapel, and something beyond the Chapel.The scent of the medicine, the closeness of the room, the darkness and the sickness, seemed to close all about her...She was at the bottom of a deep well, and she would never get out, she would never get out...
The door slowly, very softly opened, and old Martha looked in.
"She's been very bad," whispered Maggie.
"Ay, I heard something.That's why I came.You gave her the drops?""Yes."
"She'll sleep a bit now.I'll take your place, Miss Maggie.It's time you went back to your bed."Maggie crept away.
She came down to breakfast to find the house bathed in sunlight and the parrot singing hoarsely "And her golden hair was hanging down her back." Aunt Elizabeth was there, cheerful and almost merry in her bird-like fashion.The world was normal, ghosts out of fashion, and this morning was the day on which the silver was cleaned.This last was Maggie's business, and very badly she did it, never being "thorough," and having a fatal habit of thinking of other things.