sen practically everything--the piano,
as well as the coal-scuttles, and every stick of furniture in Luke's
room.

To-night she went up the well-known stairs very slowly: she ached so
in every limb that she could scarcely walk. She seemed to have aged
twenty years in two days.

Edie was sitting alone in the pretty drawing room buried in a
capacious arm-chair, her hands folded before her. The room was in
darkness save for the glow of the firelight. She jumped up when
Colonel Harris and Louisa were announced and the neat servant in black
dress and smart cap and apron switched on the electric light.

"Oh," said poor little Edie impetuously, "I am so thankful you've
come!"

She ran up to Louisa and put her arms round her, kissing her.

"Do come and sit with me," she continued, loath to relinquish Colonel
Harris's hand after she had shaken it, "I feel that in this solitude I
shall go dotty."

Whilst she spoke, she detached with nervous, febrile movements
Louisa's fur from round her neck, and dragged the older woman nearer
to herself and to the fire. Then she threw herself down on the hearth
rug, squatting there in front of the fire, with nervy fingers picking
at the fringe of the rug. Her cheeks were red and blotchy with traces
of recent tears, her hair, towzled and damp, clung to her moist
temples. Suddenly she burst into a torrent of weeping.

"Oh, Lou! what does it all mean?" she exclaimed between heavy sobs.
"What does it all mean? They say Luke has murdered that odious Philip!
and I have been cooped up here for two days now, not daring to go out!
ashamed to face any one! and Luke--Luke--oh!"

The outburst was almost hysterical. The young girl was obviously
fearfully overwrought, and had endured a severe nerve-strain by not
having the means of giving vent to her feelings. Colonel Harris, with
all an Englishman's horror of feminine scenes, was clearing his
throat, looking supremely uncomfortable all the time.

"Sh!--sh!" admonished Louisa impatiently, "be quiet, Edie, you mustn't
go on like that! Be quiet now!" she added more severely seeing that
the girl made no effort to control herself. "What will your servants
think?"

"Do you suppose," retorted Edie, "that I care what they think? They
can't think more, can they? when they all talk of Luke as if he were a
murderer."

"Do for God's sake be silent, Edie. This is too awful."

And Louisa, almost roughly, dragged herself away from the girl's
hysterical emb