ut a change came, and that in a way which Geoffrey little expected.

One evening when Mr. Byrne said "Good night," it struck him that his
niece looked particularly tired.

"Make your mother go to bed at once, Elsa," he said, "I don't like her
looks. If she's not better to-morrow, I must have a doctor to see her.
And," he added in a lower tone still, "don't let Geoffrey go near her
to-morrow morning. Has he bothered her much lately?"

"Mamma has left him alone. It was much the best thing to do," Elsa
replied. "But all the same, I can see that it is making her very
unhappy."

"Time something should be done; that's growing very plain," said Mr.
Byrne. "Try and keep her quiet in the mean time, my dear. I have nearly
made up my mind, and I'll tell you all about it to-morrow."

Elsa felt rather frightened.

"Great-uncle," she said, "I don't want to make silly excuses for Geoff,
but it is true that he has never been quite so ill-natured and worrying
as lately."

"Or perhaps you have never seen it so plainly," said the old gentleman.
"But you needn't think I require to be softened to him, my dear; I am
only thinking of his good. He's not a bad lad at bottom; there's good
stuff in him. But he's ruining himself, and half killing your mother.
Life's been too easy to him, as you've said yourself. He needs bringing
to his senses."

Geoff slept soundly; moreover, his room was at the top of the house. He
did not hear any disturbance that night--the opening and shutting of
doors, the anxious whispering voices, the sound of wheels driving
rapidly up to the door. He knew nothing of it all. For, alas! his
tiresome, fidgety temper had caused him to be looked upon as no better
than a sort of naughty child in the house--of no use or assistance,
concerning whom every one's first thought in any trouble was, "We must
manage to get Geoff out of the way, or to keep him quiet."

When he awoke it was still dark. But there was a light in his room--some
one had come in with a candle. It was Elsa. He rubbed his eyes and
looked at her with a strange unreal feeling, as if he were still
dreaming. And when he saw her face, the unreal feeling did not go away.
She seemed so unlike herself, in her long white dressing-gown, the light
of the candle she was holding making her look so pale, and her eyes so
strained and anxious--_was_ it the candle, or was she really so very
pale?

"Elsa," he said sleepily, "what are you doing? What is the matter? Isn