ld, marble statue--his little
baby Beatrice, who had leaped in his arms years ago, who had cried and
laughed, who had learned in pretty accents to lisp his name--his
beautiful child, his proud, bright daughter, who had kissed him the
previous night while he spoke jesting words to her about her lover.
And he had never heard her voice since--never would hear it again. Had
she called him when the dark waters closed over her bright head?

Cold, motionless, no gleam of life or light--and this was Dora's little
child! He uttered a great cry as the thought struck him: "What would
Dora say?" He loved Beatrice; yet for all the long years of her
childhood he had been absent from her. How must Dora love the child
who had slept on her bosom, and who was now parted from her forever.

And then his thoughts went back to the old subject: "How had it
happened? What had taken her to the lake?"

One knelt near who might have told him, but a numb, awful dread had
seized upon Lillian. Already weak and ill, she was unable to think,
unable to shape her ideas, unable to tell right from wrong.

She alone held the clew to the mystery, and she knelt by that death bed
with pale, parted lips and eyes full of terror. Her face startled
those who saw it. Her sorrow found no vent in tears; the gentle eyes
seemed changed into balls of fire; she could not realize that it was
Beatrice who lay there, so calm and still--Beatrice, who had knelt at
her feet and prayed that she would save her--Beatrice, who had believed
herself so near the climax of her happiness.

Could she have met Hugh, and had he murdered her? Look where she
would, Lillian saw that question written in fiery letters. What ought
she to do? Must she tell Lord Earle, or did the promise she had made
bind her in death as well as in life. Nothing could restore her
sister. Ought she to tell all she knew, and to stain in death the name
that was honored and loved?

One of the doctors called in saw the face of Lillian Earle. He went at
once to Lady Helena, and told her that if the young lady was not
removed from that room, and kept quiet she would be in danger of her
life.

"If ever I saw a face denoting that the brain was disturbed," he said,
"that is one."

Lillian was taken back to her room, and left with careful nurses. But
the doctor's warning proved true. While Lord Earle wept over the dead
child, Lady Helena mourned over the living one, whose life hung by a
thread.