air.

Quite sufficiently beautiful to attract partners, and one came up and
requested her to dance. She rose in acquiescence, turning her back right
upon Jan, who would have interposed.

"Go away," said she. "I don't want any lecturing from you."

But Jan did not go away. He laid his hand impressively upon her
shoulder. "You _must not_ do it, Sibylla. There's a pond outside; it's
just as good you went and threw yourself into that. It would do you no
more harm."

She jerked her shoulder away from him; laughing a little, scornful
laugh, and saying a few contemptuous words to her partner, directed to
Jan. Jan propped his back against the wall, and watched her, giving her
a few words in his turn.

"As good try to turn a mule, as turn _her_."

He watched her through the quadrille. He watched the gradually
increasing excitement of her temperament. Nothing could be more
pernicious for her; nothing more dangerous; as Jan knew. Presently he
watched her plunge into a waltz; and just at that moment his eyes fell
on Lionel.

He had just entered; he was shaking hands with Sir Edmund Hautley. Jan
made his way to them.

"Have you seen Sibylla, Jan?" was the first question of Lionel to his
brother. "I hear she has come."

For answer, Jan pointed towards a couple amidst the waltzers, and
Lionel's dismayed gaze fell on his wife, whirling round at a mad speed,
her eyes glistening, her cheeks burning, her bosom heaving. With the
violence of the exertion, her poor breath seemed to rise in loud gasps,
shaking her to pieces, and the sweat-drops poured off her brow.

One dismayed exclamation, and Lionel took a step forward. Jan caught him
back.

"It is of no use, Lionel. I have tried. It would only make a scene, and
be productive of no end. I am not sure either, whether opposition at
the present moment would not do as much harm as is being done."

"Jan!" cried Sir Edmund in an undertone, "is--she--dying?"

"She is not far off it," was Jan's answer.

Lionel had yielded to Jan's remonstrance, and stood back against the
wall, as Jan had previously been doing. The waltz came to an end. In the
dispersion Lionel lost sight of his wife. A few moments, and strange
sounds of noise and confusion were echoing from an adjoining room. Jan
went away at his own rate of speed, Lionel in his wake. They had caught
the reiterated words, spoken in every phase of terrified tones, "Mrs.
Verner! Mrs. Verner!"

Ah, poor Mrs. Verner! That had been