rself," said Geoffrey. "The House does not sit
to-morrow; I will look after her. Unless Effie dies in the interval, you
will certainly be able to go to the ball."

"Dies--what nonsense! The doctor says that it is a very slight attack.
Why should she die?"

"I am sure I hope that there is no fear of anything of the sort,
Honoria. Only she must be properly looked after. I do not trust this
woman Anne. I have half a mind to get in a trained nurse after all."

"Well, if you do, she will have to sleep out of the house, that's
all. Amelia (Lady Garsington) is coming up to-night, and I must have
somewhere to put her maid, and there is no room for another bed in
Effie's room."

"Oh, very well, very well," said Geoffrey, "I daresay that it will be
all right, but if Effie gets any worse, you will please understand that
room must be made."

But Effie did not get worse. She remained much about the same. Geoffrey
sat at home all day and employed himself in reading briefs; fortunately
he had not to go to court. About six o'clock he went down to the House,
and having dined very simply and quietly, took his seat and listened
to some dreary talk, which was being carried on for the benefit of the
reporters, about the adoption of the Welsh language in the law courts of
Wales.

Suddenly he became aware of a most extraordinary sense of oppression.
An indefinite dread took hold of him, his very soul was filled with
terrible apprehensions and alarm. Something dreadful seemed to knock at
the portals of his sense, a horror which he could not grasp. His mind
was confused, but little by little it grew clearer, and he began to
understand that a danger threatened Beatrice, that she was in great
peril. He was sure of it. Her agonised dying cries reached him where he
was, though in no form which he could understand; once more her thought
beat on his thought--once more and for the last time her spirit spoke to
his.

Then suddenly a cold wind seemed to breathe upon his face and lift his
hair, and everything was gone. His mind was as it had been; again he
heard the dreary orator and saw the members slipping away to dinner. The
conditions that disturbed him had passed, things were as they had been.
Nor was this strange! For the link was broken. Beatrice was _dead_. She
had passed into the domains of impenetrable silence.

Geoffrey sat up with a gasp, and as he did so a letter was placed in his
hand. It was addressed in Beatrice's handwritin