on the whole affair, now that it had gone forth
there was to be an early removal, affected a show
of interest and even zeal.

The two girls sat in the drawing-room till
late, trying to carry out a pretence of being busy
with their ordinary labours. But so great a
domestic cyclone does not soon go down. The
whirl confuses. With an agitation so recent,
there is a sort of fascination, drawing all
talk back to the one topic. They went over it
again and again, with an ingenious variety.
When recollection slackened, there was specu-
lation for the future. But in all this the second
girl took little part. Presently she went away,
and repaired to her own room; for it was now
all but midnight, and full time to think of bed.

She heard them all go up, and stood a long
time at the window looking out, with her hair
down upon her shoulders. Below her, she could
see a square patch of light upon the ground,
which was from the window of the room where
Fermor was lying with a dull numbed brain, sore
and half-stupified. It was as if his head had been
changed into a lump of rough stone. She could
see the lights of the town twinkling far away down
the hill, and these lights were in greater glory
than on a common night; for there were revellers
busy singing the Race, or drowning the sense
of a sudden and fatal poverty. A few black
figures would pass by trolling, and, with a
halting gait, become bathed in the light from the
parlour window. Then she sat down, looked
long at the ground, and putting her hands on
her forehead, over which fell her heavy hair,
drew a long deep sigh of oppression, and
shuddered. She was thinking of the day and its
events, which seemed like a nightmare; and the
shudder was for that horrid crash of men and
horses and stone wall all mixed, which, though
she had not seen, some one had described too
graphically. Then she heard steps on the gravel,
rose again softly, looked out cautiously, and
saw Young Brett lounging slowly to the gate.
He looked up and down the road, for he was
getting fatigued with his watching, and was
wishing to be relieved. Then he lit a cigar.

Still in a flutter of anxiety, she stole out
upon the stairs and listened. She was
indignant with this "selfish boy" for leaving his
post at so critical a season. Uncertain and
anxious, she crept down softly, and stood in the
little hall close to the parlour. The hall door
was open, and she could see that the "selfish
boy" had walked away. At that moment she
heard a sound of tossing and a deep groan, with
a sort of half cry. She did not hesitate a second;
she had a good deal of Spanish leaven in her,
and entered the room softly.

Poor ghastly Fermor, heavy, haggard, and
revealed under the light of a waning candle, was
writhing and twisting before her, with his arm
drawn across his forehead. He was on the
debatable ground between consciousness and dull
lethargy. As he turned and writhed, he kept up
a low groaning like an Irish keen. She did not
stop like an English girl, but full of grief and sym-
pathy, went up to the bedside, spoke to him, and
asked what she could do to soothe him.

His eyes settled on her with a dull stare, but she
thought he did not know her, for he commenced
his keen again. There was some cooling drink
on the table close by, and she suddenly took it up
and held it to his lips. It seemed to do him good,
and he took it gratefully— then began tossing his
arms again, and groaning as if in deep suffering.
Quite helpless, she sank on her knees beside the
bed, and covered up her face. He will die— she
was thinking. So brave, so gallant; above all, so
calm, and so all but victorious, as he had shown
himself on that day. All but victorious: except
for that dark and suspicious collision, and that
strange meaning look, with which, just before the
race, Hanbury had followed him. It was dread-
ful; and the half Spanish girl began to heave,
and flutter, and grow agitated. "O, he will
die! he will die!" she said aloud. "And what
shall I do?"

Two figures were standing in the doorway, looking
on with astonishment— one at least with ad-
miration; for Violet's face seemed to glow softly
through her hair, like a sunset seen through
leaves.

"By Jove!" said one, under his breath. Hanbury,
the other, gave a half groan; then suddenly
caught his companion's arm, and led him softly
out to the hall door again.

"What's this for?" said Young Brett. " I say,
what are you at?"

"Hush!" said Hanbury; "not a word."

She had heard their steps, as he had
intended she should, and rose up softly, half scared
at the peril of discovery, glided out as softly, and
fluttered up-stairs. From the top she looked
down to the hall door, where Hanbury was busy
pointing out a star to his friend. "What an
escape!" she thought. John Hanbury was not
thinking of that star.

He did not speak for some moments; then,
roused by the groans of his friend, both went
in, gave what was ordered, which presently
soothed the patient into a profound sleep.

Early the next morning he awoke better. He
had got back to sense and intellect, and almost
his first words to Young Brett were (spoken
wearily): "I had such strange dreams last night,
or nightmares, which? Tell me. Come, was
there any one here last night any girl or
nurse— a beautiful creature?"

Young Brett, who had all the openness of a
boy, and a boy's delight at a question to which he
could give a full and satisfactory answer and thus
gather importance, said eagerly and ardently,
"O yes, dear yes. Such a surprise! When we
came in last night about midnight there was the
younger one"

Fermor motioned languidly upwards.

"Exactly. One of the girls kneeling there, in
such a state— crying, I think. But, by Jove! I
was not to talk to you. There, lie down."

The old complacent languor came on Fermor's