egree. Lucy wished from her very
heart that she could do anything to alleviate the sufferings of Mrs.
Verner, or to soothe the general discomfort.

By and by, Jan entered, and came straight up the stairs. "Am I to walk
over you, Miss Lucy?"

"There's plenty of room to go by, Jan," she answered, pulling her dress
aside.

"Are you doing penance?" he asked, as he strode past her.

"It is so dull remaining in the drawing-room by myself," answered Lucy
apologetically. "Everybody is upstairs."

Jan went into the sick-room, and Lucy sat on in silence; her head bent
down on her knees, as before. Presently Jan returned.

"Is she any better, Jan?"

"She's no worse," was Jan's answer. "That's something, when it comes to
this stage. Where's Lionel?"

"I do not know," replied Lucy. "I think he went out. Jan," she added,
dropping her voice, "will she get well?"

"Get well!" echoed Jan in his plainness. "It's not likely. She won't be
here four-and-twenty hours longer."

"Oh, Jan!" uttered Lucy, painfully startled and distressed. "What a
dreadful thing! And all because of her going out last night!"

"Not altogether," answered Jan. "It has hastened it, no doubt; but the
ending was not far off in any case."

"If I could but save her!" murmured Lucy in her unselfish sympathy. "I
shall always be thinking that perhaps if I had spoken to her last night,
instead of going out to find Mr. Verner, she might not have gone."

"Look here," said Jan. "You are not an angel yet, are you, Miss Lucy?"

"Not at all like one, I fear, Jan," was her sad answer.

"Well, then, I can tell you for your satisfaction that an angel, coming
down from heaven and endued with angel's powers, wouldn't have stopped
her last night. She'd have gone in spite of it; in spite of you all. Her
mind was made up to it; and her telling Lionel in the morning that she'd
give up going, provided he would promise to take her for a day's
pleasure to Heartburg, was only a ruse to throw the house off its
guard."

Jan passed down; Lucy sat on. As Jan was crossing the courtyard--for he
actually went out at the front door for once in his life, as he had done
the day he carried the blanket and the black tea-kettle--he encountered
John Massingbird. Mr. John wore his usual free-and-easy costume, and had
his short pipe in his mouth.

"I say," began he, "what's this tale about Mrs. Lionel? Folks are saying
that she went off to Hautley's last night, and danced herself to deat