ill-power was unearthly.

When he was dressed in his woollen gown and seated before the fire, she
gave him a cup of strong beef-tea, with brandy. He swallowed it with
great avidity.

"I should like some more of that," he said, and fell asleep.

While he was asleep Cecilia came, and the two sisters watched his
slumber, and, watching it, felt nearer to each other than they had for
many years. Before she went away Cecilia whispered--

"B. if he seems to want that little girl while he's like this, don't you
think she ought to come?"

Bianca answered: "I don't know where she is."

"I do."

"Ah!" said Bianca; "of course!" And she turned her head away.

Disconcerted by that sarcastic little speech, Cecilia was silent; then,
summoning all her courage, she said:

"Here's the address, B. I've written it down for you;" and, with puckers
of anxiety in her face, she left the room.

Bianca sat on in the old golden chair, watching the deep hollows beneath
the sleeper's temples, the puffs of breath stirring the silver round his
mouth. Her ears burned crimson. Carried out of herself by the sight of
that old form, dearer to her than she had thought, fighting its great
battle for the sake of its idea, her spirit grew all tremulous and soft
within her. With eagerness she embraced the thought of self-effacement.
It did not seem to matter whether she were first with Hilary. Her spirit
should so manifest its capacity for sacrifice that she would be first
with him through sheer nobility. At this moment she could almost have
taken that common little girl into her arms and kissed her. So would all
disquiet end! Some harmonious messenger had fluttered to her for a
second--the gold-winged bird of peace. In this sensuous exaltation her
nerves vibrated like the strings of a violin.

When Mr. Stone woke it was past three o'clock and Bianca at once handed
him another cup of strong beef-tea.

He swallowed it, and said: "What is this?"

"Beef-tea."

Mr. Stone looked at the empty cup.

"I must not drink it. The cow and the sheep are on the same plane as
man."

"But how do you feel, dear?"

"I feel," said Mr. Stone, "able to dictate what I have already
written--not more. Has she come?"

"Not yet; but I will go and find her if you like."

Mr. Stone looked at his daughter wistfully.

"That will be taking up your time," he said.

Bianca answered: "My time is of no consequence."

Mr. Stone stretched his hands out to t