or three things. One was that Mrs. Osborn did not lose sight of her
unless at such times as she was in the hands of Jane Cupp.

"I may as well make a clean breast of it," the young woman said. "I have
a sense of responsibility about you that I haven't liked to speak of
before. It's half hysterical, I suppose, but it has got the better of
me."

"You feel responsible for _me_!" exclaimed Emily, with wondering eyes.

"Yes, I do," she almost snapped. "You represent so much. Walderhurst
ought to be here. I'm not fit to take care of you."

"I ought to be taking care of you," said Emily, with gentle gravity. "I
am the older and stronger. You are not nearly so well as I am."

Hester startled her by bursting into tears.

"Then do as I tell you," she said. "Don't go anywhere alone. Take Jane
Cupp with you. You have nearly had two accidents. Make Jane sleep in
your dressing-room."

Emily felt a dreary chill creep over her. That which she had felt in the
air when she had slowly turned an amazed face upon Jane in the Lime
Avenue, that sense of the strangeness of things again closed her in.

"I will do as you wish," she answered.

But before the next day closed all was made plain to her, all the
awfulness, all the cruel, inhuman truth of things which seemed to lose
their possibility in the exaggeration of proportion which made their
incongruous ness almost grotesque.

The very prettiness of the flowered boudoir, the very softness of the
peace in the velvet spread of garden before the windows, made it even
more unreal.

That day, the second one, Emily had begun to note the new thing. Hester
was watching her, Hester was keeping guard. And as she realised this,
the sense of the abnormalness of things grew, and fear grew with it. She
began to feel as if a wall were rising around her, built by unseen
hands.

The afternoon, an afternoon of deeply golden sun, they had spent
together. They had read and talked. Hester had said most. She had told
stories of India,--curious, vivid, interesting stories, which seemed to
excite her.

At the time when the sunlight took its deepest gold the tea-tray was
brought in. Hester had left the room a short time before the footman
appeared with it, carrying it with the air of disproportionate solemnity
with which certain male domestics are able to surround the smallest
service. The tea had been frequently served in Hester's boudoir of late.
During the last week, however, Lady Walderhurst's sh