s a morning
walk after a bad night. I am going to take these roses to Miss Gladys.'
But she tossed her head and muttered something about people being mighty
pleasant all of a sudden. And, seeing her in this mood, I walked away.
She was a bad-tempered, coarse-natured woman, and I could not understand
why Mr. Hamilton seemed so blind to her defects. 'I suppose he never sees
her; that is one reason,' I thought, as I carried up my roses.

Gladys was still asleep. I had finished my breakfast, and had helped
Chatty arrange the turret-room for the day, when I heard the long-drawn
sigh that often preluded Gladys's waking. I hastened to her side, and
found her leaning on her elbow looking at my roses.

'They used to grow in the vicarage garden,' she said wistfully. 'Dark
crimson ones like these. I have been dreaming.' And then she stopped and
flung herself back wearily on her pillow. 'Why must one ever wake from
such dreams?' she finished, with the old hopeless ring in her voice.

'What was the dream, dear?' I asked, smoothing her hair caressingly. It
was fine, soft hair, like an infant's, and its pale gold tint, without
much colour or gloss, always reminded me of baby hair. I have heard
people find fault with it. But when it was unbound and streaming in wavy
masses over her shoulders it was singularly beautiful. She used to laugh
sometimes at my admiration of her straw-coloured tresses, or lint-white
locks, as she called them. But indeed there was no tint that quite
described the colour of Gladys's hair.

'Oh, I was walking in some fool's paradise or other. There were roses in
it like these. Well, another blue day is dawning, Ursula, and has to be
lived through somehow. Will you help me to get up now?' But, though she
tried after this to talk as usual, I could see the old restlessness was
on her. A sort of feverish reaction had set in. She could settle to
nothing, take pleasure in nothing; and I was not surprised that Mr.
Hamilton grumbled a little when he paid his morning visit.

'How is this? You are not quite so comfortable to-day, Gladys,' he asked,
in a dissatisfied tone. 'Is your head aching again?'

She reluctantly pleaded guilty to the headache. Not that it was much, she
assured him; but I interrupted her.

'The fact is, she sat up too late last night, and I let her talk too
much and over-exert herself.' For I saw he was determined to come to the
bottom of this.

'I think the nurse was to blame there,' he return