tired to appear at the Mertons, and when I
went to inquire for her, they told me she
had had a fainting fit, which had left her
so exhausted, that she had gone to bed.
For several days she was too ill to see any
one. One morning I was told that if I
waited she would come into the balcony of
the sitting-room appropriated to her. The
morning excursions had not been
recommenced, but she still came on to the
balcony for a little fresh air. Her maid told
me that the motion of the litter was too
much for her now.

"Surely," I said, "she must be suddenly
much worse?"

"Yes," said the maid, a Frenchwoman,
"ever since that morning my lady went to
see the English ship, her strength has
seemed ebbing away."

She returned to her mistress's rooms.
As I stood waiting in the ante-room, I
saw Madame de Beaufort coming towards
me from the Mertons' drawing-room. Her
whole person and manner seemed eager and
excited as she approached.

"I have been more fortunate than I
expected when I saw you last."

She held up to me a crumpled half-torn
fold of paper.

"It is all written in cipher, but I shall
study it till I have deciphered it."

"Did you find it, or did Sorrow bring it
you?" I asked, ironically. "It looks like
a piece of paper I took from between his
teeth the other day. I dare say he has
buried the rest. I am afraid you will find
it is much ado about nothing."

She passed on. I was glad she had left
me, for I saw through the open doors the
glitter of Irene's coverlet as she was
brought into her sitting-room and placed
on her couch.

I was shocked to see the alteration in
her. She was painfully changed. Her
face was marble white, her eyes looked
unnaturally large and bright, and her
features were sharpened and attenuated,
as after a fever. Her voice was almost
inaudible. Sorrow was beside her, licking
her hand and caressing her. The thin little
pale hand stroked his head with a tenderness
which, I confess, I was fool enough
to envy.

"Sorrow has been more than usually
affectionate these last few days. He seems
full of contrition for having played truant.
He returned out of breath and in the
greatest tribulation after you left me. I
told him I suspected him of having gone
off with my missing letter, and of having
swallowed it, and he by no means denied
it. In fact, he looked as if he confessed it,
and to confess is almost to atone, so I
have absolved him."

She smiled one of her rare sweet smiles.
A chill went to my heart as I listened to
her. Was that the letter in cipher which
Madame de Beaufort had found?

About a fortnight afterwards a murmur
of indignation arose among the English in
Constantinople, in consequence of a
rumour that the French had made peace, or
rather that negotiations for the purpose of
making peace were going on between them
and the Czar.

It was hard on Madame de Beaufort
that every one belonging to her should
swell the court of a woman she disliked
and suspected. But no change arose in
this regard, either in her dislike or her
suspicion: and in her presence Irene seemed
under some fatal charm. She was no
longer bright and charming, but pale,
silent, and drooping.

One day Caradoc expostulated with me
gently on my being so engrossed with her.

"I cannot understand it, Eden. De
Beaufort's infatuation is explicable—he
has a spice of madness in him, but
yours——"

"Do not class us together, I beg."

"Your countess does, I think. After
talking sentiment and high art with you
in the morning, she admits De Beaufort in
the afternoon."

"Say he inflicts himself upon her."

Caradoc smiled. "As you please; you
are as mad as he is. I do not pretend,
however, to say that they talk of sentiment
or art."

I parted from Caradoc moodily.

That evening I went to her as usual.
Her litter had been placed in the balcony.
There was a mysterious and solemn shadow
on her face, though it was white as a lily.
Her hands were clayey cold.

"You are ill," I said, anxiously.

"Almost worn out; there are only a
few grains of sand left in the hour-glass—
it is nearly run out."

I stooped down to kiss her hand. I did
not wish her to see the terror which had
blanched my cheek as I looked at her.

"Ah! friend," she said, with an accent
I cannot describe, "how thankful I am to
have known you! Your friendship has
given a glorious sunset to my stormy life.
No, you must not contradict me, I am very
contented. I have even been happy at