ealous, is she, poor little duck? I
say, though, you'd better keep me out of that girl's way; engaged or
not, she'd mash any fellow. Now, what's up? Is that you, Alice? What a
noisy one you are, to be sure!"

Alice had rushed into the room followed by Sophy, who was followed again
by Daisy Jenkins.

"The bride's-maid dresses have come!" screamed Alice. "Let's all go and
try them on, Matty!"

When Mrs. Bell took Beatrice out of the room, she said a few more words
about Miss Hart. Finally she took Beatrice upstairs, and ushered her
into her young visitor's bedroom.

Amongst the other luxuries which Josephine's money had secured for her
in the Bells' house was an old-fashioned sofa, which was drawn across
the windows. On this sofa Josephine often lay for hours. She was lying
on it now, in a white morning dress. Mrs. Bell introduced the girls to
each other, and then left them.

"I have seen you before," said Beatrice, the moment they were alone;
"once before I have seen your face. You were looking out of a window.
Stay," she added, suddenly, "I think I have seen you twice before. Are
you not the girl who brushed past Captain Bertram and me the other night
in the dark? Yes, I am sure you are the girl."

"You are right," said Josephine; "I am the girl." She spoke in an eager
voice, two burning spots rose to her pale cheeks; her eyes always bright
now almost glittered. "I am the girl," she repeated. She half rose from
her sofa, but sat down on it again, and panted heavily, as though her
breath failed her.

"You are ill," said Beatrice, with compunction; "you look very ill. Have
you been long here? Mrs. Bell says that you are a friend of hers, a
visitor."

"Yes, I am a friend and visitor. Mrs. Bell is very good to me."

"But you are ill. You ought to see a doctor."

"I ought not--I will not."

"Can I help you? It was kind of you to send for me. Can I do anything
for you?"

"Wait until I get back my breath. I will speak in a minute. Sit quiet.
Let me be still. It is agitation enough to have you in the room."

Her eyes glittered again. She pressed her white transparent hands to her
throbbing heart.

Beatrice sat motionless. She had a queer feeling at her own heart, a
kind of premonition that a blow was about to be struck at her. Several
minutes passed. Then the girl on the sofa spoke.

"The struggle of seeing you is past. I see--I endure. Your name is
Beatrice Meadowsweet--?"

"Yes, I am Beatrice Meadowsweet