ou, sir, were to have used! They are our best linen ones,
got up beautiful, and a kept wi' rosemary. Really, sir, one would say
you stayed out o' your chammer o' purpose to oblige the young man with a
bed!'

'Don't blame them, don't blame them!' said Jocelyn in an even and
characterless voice. 'Don't blame her, particularly. She didn't make the
circumstances. I did.... It was how I served her grandmother. ... Well,
she's gone! You needn't make a mystery of it. Tell it to all the island:
say that a man came to marry a wife, and didn't find her at home. Tell
everybody that she's run away. It must be known sooner or later.'

One of the servants said, after waiting a few moments: 'We shan't do
that, sir.'

'Oh--Why won't you?'

'We liked her too well, with all her faults.'

'Ah--did you,' said he; and he sighed. He perceived that the younger
maids were secretly on Avice's side.

'How does her mother bear it?' Jocelyn asked. 'Is she awake?'

Mrs. Pierston had hardly slept, and, having learnt the tidings
inadvertently, became so distracted and incoherent as to be like a
person in a delirium; till, a few moments before he arrived, all her
excitement ceased, and she lay in a weak, quiet silence.

'Let me go up,' Pierston said. 'And send for the doctor.'

Passing Avice's chamber he perceived that the little bed had not been
slept on. At the door of the spare room he looked in. In one corner
stood a walking-stick--his own.

'Where did that come from?'

'We found it there, sir.'

'Ah yes--I gave it to him. 'Tis like me to play another's game!'

It was the last spurt of bitterness that Jocelyn let escape him. He went
on towards Mrs. Pierston's room, preceded by the servant.

'Mr. Pierston has come, ma'am,' he heard her say to the invalid. But as
the latter took no notice the woman rushed forward to the bed. 'What has
happened to her, Mr. Pierston? O what do it mean?'

Avice the Second was lying placidly in the position in which the nurse
had left her; but no breath came from her lips, and a rigidity
of feature was accompanied by the precise expression which had
characterized her face when Pierston had her as a girl in his studio.
He saw that it was death, though she appeared to have breathed her last
only a few moments before.

Ruth Stockwool's composure deserted her. ''Tis the shock of finding Miss
Avice gone that has done it!' she cried. 'She has killed her mother!'

'Don't say such a terrible thing!' exclaim