far she still held
control of herself; for her mother must not hear the news: the
apothecary from Derby who had ridden up to see her this week had been
very emphatic. So the girl must be as usual. There must be no sign of
discomposure. To-night, at least, she would keep her face in the shadow.
But her voice? Could she control that too?

After she had sat motionless in the cold hall a minute or two, she
tested herself.

"He is dead," she said softly. "He is quite dead, and so are the others.
They--"

But she could not go on. Great shuddering seized on her; she shook from
head to foot....

Later that night Mrs. Manners awoke. She tried to move her head, but the
pain was shocking, and still half asleep, she moaned aloud.

Then the curtains moved softly, and she could see that a face was
looking at her.

"Margy! Is that you?"

"Yes, mother."

"Move my head; move my head. I cannot bear--"

She felt herself lifted gently and strongly. The struggle and the pain
exhausted her for a minute, and she lay breathing deeply. Then the ease
of the shifted position soothed her.

"I cannot see your face," she said. "Where is the light?"

The face disappeared, and immediately, through the curtains, the mother
saw the light. But still she could not see the girl's face. She said so
peevishly.

"It will weary your eyes. Lie still, mother, and go to sleep again."

"What time is it?"

"I do not know."

"Are you not in bed?"

"Not yet, mother."

The sick woman moaned again once or twice, but thought no more of it.
And presently the deep sleep of sickness came down on her again.

* * * * *

They rose early in those days in England; and soon after six o'clock, as
Janet had seen nothing of her young mistress, she opened the door of the
sleeping-room and peeped in.... A minute later Marjorie's mind rose up
out of black gulfs of sleep, in which, since her falling asleep an hour
or two ago, she had wandered, bearing an intolerable burden, which she
could neither see nor let fall, to find the rosy-streaked face of Janet,
all pinched with cold, peering into her own. She sat up, wide awake, yet
with all her world still swaying about her, and stared into her maid's
eyes.

"What is it? What time is it?"

"It is after six, mistress. And the mistress seems uneasy. I--"

Marjorie sprang up and went to the bed.

III

On the evening of that day her mother died.

* * *