e lesson;
she had gone from me to some world infinitely removed, in which I was
forgotten, and my pitiful trials and struggles could be nothing to her
any more!

I was once more alone, and this second bereavement revived in all its
crushing desolation the first bitter loss which it so closely followed.

So, as I stood there at the window, my unnatural calm could hold out no
longer; the long-frozen tears thawed, and I could weep for the first
time since Marjory died.

But I was not allowed to sorrow undisturbed; I felt a rough grasp on my
arm, as Ormsby asked me angrily, 'What's the matter now?'

'Oh, Marjory, come to me!' I could only cry; 'I can't bear it! I can't!
I can't!'

'Stop that, do you hear?' he said savagely, 'I won't have it! Who are
you to cry about her, when--but for _you_----'

He got no farther; the bitter truth in such a taunt, coming from him,
stung me to ungovernable rage. I turned and struck him full in the
mouth, which I cut open with my clenched hand.

His eyes became all pupil. 'You shall pay me for that!' he said through
his teeth; and, forcing me against a desk, he caught up a large T-square
which lay near; he was far the stronger, and I felt myself powerless in
his grasp. Passion and pain had made him beside himself for the moment,
and he did not know how formidable a weapon the heavily-weighted
instrument might become in his hand.

I shut my eyes: I think I rather hoped he would kill me, and then
perhaps I might go where Marjory was. I did not cry for help, and it
would have been useless if I had done so, for the schoolroom was a long
way from the kitchen and offices of that rambling old house.

But before the expected blow was dealt I felt his grasp relax, and heard
the instrument fall with a sudden clatter on the floor. 'Look,' he
whispered, in a voice I did not recognise, '_look there_!'

And when I opened my eyes, I saw Marjory standing between us!

She looked just as I had always seen her: I suppose that even the
after-life could not make Marjory look purer, or more lovely than she
was on earth. My first feeling was a wild conviction that it had all
been some strange mistake--that Marjory was not dead.

'Marjory, Marjory!' I cried in my joy, 'is it really you? You have come
back, after all, and it is not true!'

She looked at us both without speaking for a moment; her dear brown eyes
had lost their old childish sparkle, and were calm and serious as if
with a deeper knowled