e assumed an air of the deepest distress. "How could
you frighten the child so?" he murmured. "Please go and tell her that I
am all right."

"It was not my fault," said Lady Honoria with a shrug of her shapely
shoulders. "Besides, I can do nothing with Effie. She goes on like a
wild thing about you."

"Please go and tell her, Honoria," said her husband.

"Oh, yes, I'll go," she answered. "Really I shall not be sorry to get
out of this; I begin to feel as though I had been drowned myself;" and
she looked at the steaming cloths and shuddered. "Good-bye, Geoffrey. It
is an immense relief to find you all right. The policeman made me feel
quite queer. I can't get down to give you a kiss or I would. Well,
good-bye for the present, my dear."

"Good-bye, Honoria," said her husband with a faint smile.

The medical assistant looked a little surprised. He had never, it is
true, happened to be present at a meeting between husband and wife, when
one of the pair had just been rescued by a hair's-breadth from a violent
and sudden death, and therefore wanted experience to go on. But it
struck him that there was something missing. The lady did not seem to
him quite to fill the part of the Heaven-thanking spouse. It puzzled
him very much. Perhaps he showed this in his face. At any rate, Lady
Honoria, who was quick enough, read something there.

"He is safe now, is he not?" she asked. "It will not matter if I go
away."

"No, my lady," answered the assistant, "he is out of danger, I think; it
will not matter at all."

Lady Honoria hesitated a little; she was standing in the passage.
Then she glanced through the door into the opposite room, and caught a
glimpse of Beatrice's rigid form and of the doctor bending over it. Her
head was thrown back and the beautiful brown hair, which was now almost
dry again, streamed in masses to the ground, while on her face was
stamped the terrifying seal of Death.

Lady Honoria shuddered. She could not bear such sights. "Will it be
necessary for me to come back to-night?" she said.

"I do not think so," he answered, "unless you care to hear whether Miss
Granger recovers?"

"I shall hear that in the morning," she said. "Poor thing, I cannot help
her."

"No, Lady Honoria, you cannot help her. She saved your husband's life,
they say."

"She must be a brave girl. Will she recover?"

The assistant shook his head. "She may, possibly. It is not likely now."

"Poor thing, and so young and beauti