azing at it with a quick
appreciation of what had happened. For some reason or other Rosalind
had tried to reach the candle, and the light had caught her gauzy skirt,
which had burst into flames. It was easy--terribly easy to imagine; but
in what way had Peggy Saville been responsible for the accident, so that
her name should sound so persistently on Rosalind's lips,--and who had
been the Good Samaritan who had come to the rescue with that thick
curtain which had killed the flames before they had time to finish the
work of destruction?

Lord Darcy peered curiously round. The oak floor stretched before him
dark and still, save where its polished surface reflected the light
overhead; but surely in the corner opposite to where he stood there was
a darker mass--a shadow deeper than the rest?

He walked towards it, bending forward with straining eyes. Another
curtain of the same pattern as that which had enveloped Rosalind--a
curtain of rich Oriental hues with an unaccountable patch of white in
the centre. What was it? It must be part of the fabric itself. Lord
Darcy told himself that he had no doubt on the subject, yet the way
across the room seemed unaccountably long, and his heart beat fast with
apprehension. In another moment he stood in the corner, and knew too
well the meaning of that patch of white, for Peggy Saville lay stretched
upon the curtain, motionless, unconscious--to all appearance, dead!

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW.

It was one o'clock in the morning when a carriage drove up to the door
of the Larches, and Mrs Asplin alighted, all pale, tear-stained, and
tremulous. She had been nodding over the fire in her bedroom when the
young people had returned with the news of the tragic ending to the
night's festivity, and no persuasion or argument could induce her to
wait until the next day before flying to Peggy's side.

"No, no!" she cried. "You must not hinder me. If I can't drive, I will
walk! I would go to the child to-night, if I had to crawl on my hands
and knees! I promised her mother to look after her. How could I stay
at home and think of her lying there? Oh, children, children, pray for
Peggy! Pray that she may be spared, and that her poor parents may be
spared this awful--awful news!"

Then she kissed her own girls, clasped them to her in a passionate
embrace, and drove off to the Larches in the carriage which had brought
the young people home.

Lady Darcy