oved then. I observe that she is going off very much,--in
the matter of looks, I mean."

"I heard a gentleman remark, a few minutes ago," replied Miss MacDowlas,
"that the girl looked like a white rose, and I quite agreed with him;
but I am fond of her, as I said, and you are not."

Her ladyship shuddered faintly, but she did not make any further
comment, perhaps feeling that her hostess was too powerful to encounter.

At midnight the visitors went their several ways, and after they had
dispersed and the rooms were quiet once again, Miss MacDowlas sent her
companion to bed, or, at least, bade her good-night.

"You had better go at once," she said. "I will remain to give orders to
the servants. You look tired. The excitement has been too much for you."

So Dolly thanked her and left the room; but Miss MacDowlas did not hear
her ascend the stairs, and accordingly, after listening a moment or so,
went to the room door and looked out into the hall. And right at the
foot of the staircase lay Dolly Crewe, the lustreless, trailing black
dress making her skin seem white as marble, her pretty face turned half
downward upon her arm.

Half an hour later the girl returned to consciousness to find herself
lying comfortably in bed, the chamber empty save for herself and Miss
MacDowlas, who was standing at her side watching her.

"Better?" she said. "That is right, my dear. The evening was too much
for you, as I was afraid it would be. You are not as strong as you
should be."

"No," Dolly answered, quietly.

There was a silence of a few minutes, during which she closed her eyes
again; but she heard Miss MacDowlas fidgeting a little, and at last she
heard her speak.

"My dear," she said, "I think I ought to tell you something. When you
fell, I suppose you must somehow or other have pressed the spring of
your locket, for it was open when I went to you, and--I saw the face
inside it."

"Grif," said Dolly, in a tired voice, "Grif."

And then she remembered how she had written to him about what this very
_denouement_ would be when it came. How strange, how wearily strange, it
was to think that it should come about in such a way as this!

"My nephew," said Miss MacDowlas. "Griffith Donne."

"Yes," said Dolly, briefly. "I was engaged to him."

"Was!" echoed Miss MacDowlas. "Did he behave badly to you, my dear?"

"No, I behaved badly to him--and that is why I am ill."

Miss MacDowlas blew her nose.

"How long?" she asked