d Fanny. She wondered what further unpleasantness was
about to happen to her on that inauspicious night.

"You would like to go to bed, dear, wouldn't you?" said Miss Symes.

"Yes, thank you."

"Well, you shall do so. I cannot go for a couple of hours, as Mrs. Haddo
wants me to sit up with her until the specialist arrives from London."

"The specialist from London!" exclaimed Fanny, turning first red and
then white. "Do you mean that Mrs. Haddo has sent for a London doctor?"

"Indeed she has. My dear, poor little Betty is dangerously ill. Dr.
Ashley is by no means satisfied about her."

By this time the two had reached Miss Symes's beautiful room. Fanny gave
a quick sigh. Then, like a flash, a horrible thought occurred to her.
Her room had to be given up to-morrow. Her things would be removed.
Among her possessions--put safely away, it is true, but still not _too_
safely--was the little sealed packet. If that packet were found, Fanny
felt that the world would be at an end as far as she was concerned.

"You don't look well yourself, Fanny," said Miss Symes, glancing kindly
at the girl. "Of course you are sorry about Betty; we are all sorry, for
we all love her. If you had been at prayers to-night you would have been
astonished at the gloom which was felt in our beautiful little chapel
when Mr. Fairfax prayed for her."

"But she can't be as ill as all that?" said Fanny.

"She is--very, very ill, dear. The child has evidently got a bad chill,
together with a most severe mental shock. We none of us can make out
what is the matter; but it is highly probable that the specialist--Dr.
Jephson of Harley Street--will insist on the Specialities being
questioned as to the reason why Betty was expelled from the club. It is
absolutely essential that the girl's mind should be relieved, and that
as soon as possible. She is under the influence now of a composing
draught, and, we greatly trust, may be more like herself in the morning.
Don't look too sad, dear Fanny! I can quite understand that you must
feel this very deeply, for Betty is your cousin; and somehow,
dear--forgive me for saying it--but you do not act quite the cousin's
part to that poor, sweet child. Now I must leave you. Go to bed, dear.
Pray for Betty, and then sleep all you can."

"Where are the twins?" suddenly asked Fanny.

"They are sleeping to-night in the lower school. It was necessary to put
the poor darlings as far from Betty as possible, for they are in