eatly shocked, he followed her back into the sitting-room, and then--as
soon as he got his composure--apologised for having intruded himself upon
her in such an hour of desolation.

"I am glad to see you," she said simply, "I have seen nobody except
the doctor once, and the undertaker twice. It is dreadful to sit alone
hour after hour face to face with the irretrievable. If I had not been
so foolish as to enter into that agreement with Messrs. Meeson, I
could have got the money by selling my new book easily enough; and I
should have been able to take Jeannie abroad, and I believe that she
would have lived--at least I hoped so. But now it is finished, and
cannot be helped."

"I wish I had known," blundered Eustace, "I could have lent you the
money. I have a hundred and fifty pounds."

"You are very good," she answered gently, "but it is no use talking about
it now, it is finished."

Then Eustace rose and went away; and it was not till he found himself in
the street that he remembered that he had never asked Augusta what her
plans were. Indeed, the sight of poor Jeannie had put everything else out
of his head. However, he consoled himself with the reflection that he
could call again a week or ten days after the funeral.

Two days later, Augusta followed the remains of her dearly beloved sister
to their last resting place, and then came home on foot (for she was the
only mourner), and sat in her black gown before the little fire, and
reflected upon her position. What was she to do? She could not stay in
these rooms. It made her heart ache every time her eyes fell upon the
empty sofa opposite, dinted as it was with the accustomed weight of poor
Jeannie's frame. Where was she to go, and what was she to do. She might
get literary employment, but then her agreement with Messrs. Meeson
stared her in the face. That agreement was very widely drawn. It bound
her to offer all literary work of any sort, that might come from her pen
during the next five years, to Messrs. Meeson at the fixed rate of seven
per cent, on the published price. Obviously, as it seemed to her, though
perhaps erroneously, this clause might be stretched to include even a
newspaper article, and she knew the malignant nature of Mr. Meeson well
enough to be quite certain that, if possible, that would be done. It was
true she might manage to make a bare living out of her work, even at the
beggarly pay of seven per cent, but Augusta was a person of spirit, and