this time--did what was yet to
be done among the trunks.

"WE know, you and I," Zuleika whispered to the adorable creature in the
mirror; and the adorable creature gave back her nod and smile.

THEY knew, these two.

Yet, in their happiness, rose and floated a shadow between them. It was
the ghost of that one man who--THEY knew--had died irrelevantly, with a
cold heart.

Came also the horrid little ghost of one who had died late and unseemly.

And now, thick and fast, swept a whole multitude of other ghosts, the
ghosts of all them who, being dead, could not die again; the poor ghosts
of them who had done what they could, and could do no more.

No more? Was it not enough? The lady in the mirror gazed at the lady
in the room, reproachfully at first, then--for were they not
sisters?--relentingly, then pityingly. Each of the two covered her face
with her hands.

And there recurred, as by stealth, to the lady in the room a thought
that had assailed her not long ago in Judas Street... a thought about
the power of example...

And now, with pent breath and fast-beating heart, she stood staring at
the lady of the mirror, without seeing her; and now she wheeled round
and swiftly glided to that little table on which stood her two books.
She snatched Bradshaw.

We always intervene between Bradshaw and any one whom we see consulting
him. "Mademoiselle will permit me to find that which she seeks?" asked
Melisande.

"Be quiet," said Zuleika. We always repulse, at first, any one who
intervenes between us and Bradshaw.

We always end by accepting the intervention. "See if it is possible to
go direct from here to Cambridge," said Zuleika, handing the book on.
"If it isn't, then--well, see how to get there."

We never have any confidence in the intervener. Nor is the intervener,
when it comes to the point, sanguine. With mistrust mounting to
exasperation Zuleika sat watching the faint and frantic researches of
her maid.

"Stop!" she said suddenly. "I have a much better idea. Go down very
early to the station. See the station-master. Order me a special train.
For ten o'clock, say."

Rising, she stretched her arms above her head. Her lips parted in a
yawn, met in a smile. With both hands she pushed back her hair from her
shoulders, and twisted it into a loose knot. Very lightly she slipped up
into bed, and very soon she was asleep.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beerbohm