ror. "You frighten me!" she said. "You will frighten _her_
if she sees you. I don't mean to offend you; but--leave us, please leave
us."

Hester Dethridge accepted her dismissal, as she accepted every thing
else. She bowed her head in sign that she understood--looked for the
last time at Anne--dropped a stiff courtesy to her young mistress--and
left the room.

An hour later the butler had paid her, and she had left the house.

Blanche breathed more freely when she found herself alone. She could
feel the relief now of seeing Anne revive.

"Can you hear me, darling?" she whispered. "Can you let me leave you for
a moment?"

Anne's eyes slowly opened and looked round her--in that torment and
terror of reviving life which marks the awful protest of humanity
against its recall to existence when mortal mercy has dared to wake it
in the arms of Death.

Blanche rested Anne's head against the nearest chair, and ran to the
table upon which she had placed the wine on entering the room.

After swallowing the first few drops Anne begun to feel the effect of
the stimulant. Blanche persisted in making her empty the glass, and
refrained from asking or answering questions until her recovery under
the influence of the wine was complete.

"You have overexerted yourself this morning," she said, as soon as
it seemed safe to speak. "Nobody has seen you, darling--nothing has
happened. Do you feel like yourself again?"

Anne made an attempt to rise and leave the library; Blanche placed her
gently in the chair, and went on:

"There is not the least need to stir. We have another quarter of an
hour to ourselves before any body is at all likely to disturb us. I have
something to say, Anne--a little proposal to make. Will you listen to
me?"

Anne took Blanche's hand, and p ressed it gratefully to her lips. She
made no other reply. Blanche proceeded:

"I won't ask any questions, my dear--I won't attempt to keep you here
against your will--I won't even remind you of my letter yesterday. But
I can't let you go, Anne, without having my mind made easy about you in
some way. You will relieve all my anxiety, if you will do one thing--one
easy thing for my sake."

"What is it, Blanche?"

She put that question with her mind far away from the subject before
her. Blanche was too eager in pursuit of her object to notice the absent
tone, the purely mechanical manner, in which Anne had spoken to her.

"I want you to consult my uncle," she answ