for his hat, ran down the
stairs, and was gone.

"Announce me, please," said Delafield, peremptorily, to the little girl.
"Tell Miss Le Breton that I am here." And he drew back from the open
door of the drawing-room. Therese slipped in, and reappeared.

"Please to walk in, sir," she said, in her shy, low voice, and Delafield
entered. From the hall he had caught one involuntary glimpse of Julie,
standing stiff and straight in the middle of the room, her hands clasped
to her breast--a figure in pain. When he went in, she was in her usual
seat by the fire, with her embroidery frame in front of her.

"May I come in? It is rather late."

"Oh, by all means! Do you bring me any news of Evelyn? I haven't seen
her for three days."

He seated himself beside her. It was hard, indeed, for him to hide all
signs of the tumult within. But he held a firm grip upon himself.

"I saw Evelyn this afternoon. She complained that you had had no time
for her lately."

Julie bent over her work. He saw that her fingers were so unsteady that
she could hardly make them obey her.

"There has been a great deal to do, even in this little house. Evelyn
forgets; she has an army of servants; we have only our hands and
our time."

She looked up, smiling. He made no reply, and the smile died from her
face, suddenly, as though some one had blown out a light. She returned
to her work, or pretended to. But her aspect had left him inwardly
shaken. The eyes, disproportionately large and brilliant, were of an
emphasis almost ghastly, the usually clear complexion was flecked and
cloudy, the mouth dry-lipped. She looked much older than she had done a
fortnight before. And the fact was the more noticeable because in her
dress she had now wholly discarded the touch of stateliness--almost
old-maidishness--which had once seemed appropriate to the position of
Lady Henry's companion. She was wearing a little gown of her youth, a
blue cotton, which two years before had been put aside as too slight
and juvenile. Never had the form within it seemed so girlish, so
appealing. But the face was heart-rending.

After a pause he moved a little closer to her.

"Do you know that you are looking quite ill?"

"Then my looks are misleading. I am very well."

"I am afraid I don't put much faith in that remark. When do you mean to
take a holiday?"

"Oh, very soon. Leonie, my little housekeeper, talks of going to Bruges
to wind up all her affairs there and bring back