vourite, as he well deserved to be, and his beautiful
wife was regarded with a fervent admiration, which her very aloofness
had served to heighten. Other ladies might call round at cottage doors,
and talk intimately concerning book clubs, and Dorcas societies, but no
one expected such condescension from Mrs Geoffrey Hilliard. She
whizzed along in her great green car, or cantered past on her tall brown
horse, followed by a groom in livery, vouchsafing a gracious smile in
return for bows and curtseys. On Sundays she sat ensconced in the great
square pew, a vision of stately beauty. ... The good dames of the
village felt it the great privilege of this evening to see the squire's
lady without her hat, with diamonds flashing at her throat, smiling,
laughing, singing--a goddess descended from her pedestal to make merry
on their behalf.

And so at last in the midst of this simple happiness came the time for
the last item on the programme--that double tableau which every person
in the hall was fated to remember, to the last day of his life!

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

THE ACCIDENT.

The curtain drew up on the first tableau. Joan sang appropriate words
in the sweetest tones of her rich contralto voice, her eyes, like those
of the audience, riveted on the face of the little invalid as he lay on
his truckle bed. White-cheeked, bandaged, reclining, the transformation
in the child's appearance was astounding. Considered as a piece of
stage-craft, Joan had every reason to congratulate herself on the
result, but the mother's heart felt a pang of dismay. The
representation was too life-like! Just so would the darling look if the
illness were real, not imaginary. In the afternoon he had not looked so
ghastly. Was the double excitement too much for his strength? Joan's
eyes turned from the stage to the first row of seats, where her husband
had his place. Geoffrey looked worried; his brows contracted as he
watched his son. Unconsciously Joan quickened the pace of the last
verse of her song. She was anxious to get to the second tableau, to see
Jack sitting up, smiling, his eyes alert.

The curtain fell. A low murmur from the audience swelled into somewhat
forced applause. The villagers also, Joan realised, had felt the scene
to be almost too realistic. Behind the scenes Honor as nurse and Pixie
as mother propped the child's back with cushions, and showered kisses on
his white cheeks.

"Smile, Jackey, smile!" they cried