adverse moods would pass out of Jane's
heart as they had done a thousand times before.

"Oh, you dear, precious thing!" Lucy began again, all these matters
having been reviewed, settled, and dismissed from her mind in the time
it took her to cross the room. "I'm so sorry for you when I think of
you shut up here with these dreadful people; but I know you wouldn't be
happy anywhere else," she laughed in a meaning way. (The bringing in of
the doctor even by implication was always a good move.) "And Martha
looks so desolate. Dear, you really ought to be more with her; but for
my darling Ellen I don't know what Martha would do. I miss the child
so, and yet I couldn't bear to take her from the dear old woman."

Jane made no answer. Lucy had found a chair now and had laid her
gloves, parasol, and handkerchief on another beside her. Jane had
resumed her seat; her slender neck and sloping shoulders and sparely
modelled head with its simply dressed hair--she had removed the
kerchief--in silhouette against the white light of the window.

"What is it all about, Lucy?" she asked in a grave tone after a slight
pause in Lucy's talk.

"I have a great secret to tell you--one you mustn't breathe until I
give you leave."

She was leaning back in her chair now, her eyes trying to read Jane's
thoughts. Her bare hands were resting in her lap, the jewels flashing
from her fingers; about her dainty mouth there hovered, like a
butterfly, a triumphant smile; whether this would alight and spread its
wings into radiant laughter, or disappear, frightened by a gathering
frown, depended on what would drop from her sister's lips.

Jane looked up. The strong light from the window threw her head into
shadow; only the slight fluff of her hair glistened in the light. This
made an aureole which framed the Madonna's face.

"Well, Lucy, what is it?" she asked again simply.

"Max is going to be married."

"When?" rejoined Jane in the same quiet tone. Her mind was not on Max
or on anything connected with him. It was on the shadow slowly settling
upon all she loved.

"In December," replied Lucy, a note of triumph in her voice, her smile
broadening.

"Who to?"

"Me."

With the single word a light ripple escaped from her lips.

Jane straightened herself in her chair. A sudden faintness passed over
her--as if she had received a blow in the chest, stopping her breath.

"You mean--you mean--that you have promised to marry Max Feilding!" she
gasp