the General was
expostulating, and Flossy waxed apparently more and more irate every
moment. Cynthia, with her hand on Hubert's pulse, felt it growing
faster; his incoherent words were spoken with energy; he was beginning
to raise his head from the pillow and gaze about him with wild excited
eyes. She turned sharply towards the visitors.

"Go into the other room at once!" she said, with sudden decision. "You
have aroused him already--you have done him harm! Keep silence or go, if
you wish to save his life!"

The passionate ring of her voice, low though it was, had its effect. The
General stopped short in a sentence; Mrs. Jenkins looked at the bed with
a frightened air; Flossy, with an impatient gesture, walked towards the
sitting-room. But at the door she paused and looked back at Cynthia,
whose eyes were still fixed upon her. What there was in that look
perhaps no one else could see; but it magnetised Cynthia. The girl rose
from her knees, gently withdrew her hand from Hubert's nerveless
fingers, and signed to Mrs. Jenkins to take her place. Then, after
watching for a moment to see that the patient lay quietly and did not
seem distressed by her departure, she followed Mrs. Vane into the other
room. The General hovered about the door, uncertain whether to go or to
remain.

The two women faced each other silently. They were both beautiful, but
they bore no likeness one to the other.

There could not have been a more complete contrast than that presented
by Florence Vane and Cynthia Westwood as they confronted each other in
the dim light of Hubert's sitting-room. Cynthia stood erect, looking
very tall and pale in her straight black gown; her large dark eyes were
heavy from fatigue and grief, her lips had taken a pathetic downward
curve, and her dusky hair had been pushed back carelessly from her fine
brow. There was a curious dignity about her--a dignity which seemed to
proceed chiefly from her own absence of self-consciousness, swallowed up
as this had been in the depth of a great sorrow. Opposite to her stood
Florence, self-conscious and alert in every nerve and vein, but hiding
her agitation under an exterior of polished grace and studiedly haughty
courtesy, her fair beauty framed in an admirable setting of exquisite
colors and textures, her whole appearance indescribably dainty and
delicate, like that of some rare Eastern bird which hesitates where to
set its foot in a strange place.

Thus the two saw each other