thin white hand "can
anyone in the crowd tell me where this lady lives?"

There was no sound of a reply for the first few seconds and then came a
faint "yes" from the back of the throng.

"Come forward" cried the doctor. A rustling and a murmering of voices
ensued and then the figure of a young girl rushed forward. It was
Margaret Vindsor who had come out in search of Clara and fearing her to
be lost had set out to find her.

"Now" said Dr. Holden giving Margaret a chair, "are you any relation to
this young lady, and where does she live?"

"Oh Dr. Holden!" cried Margaret "she is a friend of ours and is on a
visit to us--oh what shall I do? Oh poor Beatrice!!"

"Why Miss Vindsor is it you?" Asked Dr. Holden in surprise "Waiter run
for a cab, we must take these ladies back to Le Chateau."

It was not long before the cab stopped at the Inn door and Dr. Holden
assisted by two waiters lifted Beatrice into the cab and laid her
gingerly on the seat, while Margaret speedily followed, and then the
doctor himself jumped in and the downcast party drove back to Le
Chateau.

CHAPTER 8

Mrs. Vindsor together with Honoria and Clara were waiting breathlessly
in the hall when the cab drove up. Honoria flew to the door and the
minute she caught sight of the unconscious Beatrice and her sister's
pale face she gave a loud scream and tore rapidly to her bedroom.
Beatrice was carried to her bedroom at once and the doctor soon left
after leaving his directions.

Margaret was in a great state of anxiety, but possessing more self
control than the rest of the family she was appointed nurse. Beatrice
with the aid of salts and mustard plasters soon came to herself, but
Lawrence Cathcart had done his work--rheumatic fever set in and for many
days Beatrice hung between life and death. Mr. and Mrs. Langton were
sent for and duly arrived but to no one would Beatrice confide the
mystery of her illness. The more she thought of it the more ill she
became and Honoria prayed a good deal. By the time she was able to get
up her mind was made up. She would look for Lawrence Cathcart, ask his
pardon and become his wife. Life offered naught else.

CHAPTER 9

Ten years have passed since the events recorded in my last chapter took
place, and Beatrice now a woman of 28, is fair and blooming as ever but
with an anxious care-worn expression round her face. She no longer lives
in the pretty cottage in Senbury Glen for Mr. Langton has los