endeavoured to obey
him; in the act she moaned and fell insensible.

Michael strode to the door and called twice or thrice for Mrs. Byass;
then he stooped by the lifeless girl and supported her head. Bessie was
immediately at hand, with a cry of consternation, but also with helpful
activity.

'Why, I thought she'd got over this; it's a long time since she was
took last isn't it? Sam's downstairs, Mr. Snowdon; do just shout out to
him to go for some brandy. Tell him to bring my smelling-bottle first,
if he knows where it is--I'm blest if I do! Poor thing! She ain't been
at all well lately, and that's the truth.'

The truth, beyond a doubt. Pale face, showing now the thinness which it
had not wholly outgrown, the inheritance from miserable childhood; no
face of a stern heroine, counting as idle all the natural longings of
the heart, consecrated to a lifelong combat with giant wrongs. Nothing
better nor worse than the face of one who can love and must be loved in
turn.

She came to herself, and at the same moment Michael went from the room.

'There now; there now,' crooned Bessie, with much patting of the hands
and stroking of the checks. 'Why, what's come to you, Jane? Cry away;
don't try to prevent yourself; it'll do you good to cry a bit. Of
course, here comes Sam with all sorts of things, when there's no need
of him, He's always either too soon or too late, is Sam. Just look at
him, Jane; now if _he_ don't make you laugh, nothing will!'

Mr. Byass retired, shamefaced. Leaning against Bessie's shoulder, Jane
sobbed for a long time, sobbed in the misery of shame. She saw that her
grandfather had gone away. How should she ever face him after this? It
was precious comfort to feel Bessie's sturdy arms about her, and to
hear the foolish affectionate words, which asked nothing but that she
should take them kindly and have done with her trouble.

'Did grandfather tell you how it was?' she asked, with a sudden fear
lest Bessie should have learnt her pitiful weakness.

'Why, no; how did it come?'

'I don't know. We were talking. I can stand up now, Mrs. Byass, thank
you. I'll go up to my room. I've forgotten the time; is it late?'

It was only nine o'clock. Bessie would have gone upstairs with her, but
Jane insisted that she was quite herself. On the stairs she trod as
lightly as possible, and she closed her door without a sound. Alone,
she again gave way to tears. Michael's face was angry in her memory; he
had never