t he is quite cold and stiff. Faithful little heart!"
said the doctor, with emotion, holding his burden, tenderly.

"What!" cried Myra, with both arms outstretched. "Peter has died, because
Michael is dead; and I--I have not even shed a tear!" She fell back among
the pillows in a paroxysm of weeping.

The doctor stood by, silently; uncertain what to do. Myra's sobs grew
more violent, shaking the bed with their convulsive force. Then she began
to shriek inarticulately about Michael and Peter, and to sob again, with
renewed violence.

At that moment the doctor heard the horn of a motor-car in the avenue;
then, almost immediately, the clang of the bell, and the sounds of an
arrival below. A look of immense relief came into his face. He went to
the top of the great staircase, and looked over.

The Honourable Mrs. Dalmain had arrived. The doctor saw her tall figure,
in a dark green travelling coat, walk rapidly across the hall.

"Jane!" he said. "Jeanette! Ah, I knew you would not fail us! Come
straight up. You have arrived at the right moment."

Jane looked up, and saw the doctor standing at the top of the stairs;
something wrapped in an old coat, held carefully in his arms. She threw
him one smile of greeting and assurance; then, wasting no time in words,
rapidly pulled off her coat, hat, and fur gloves, flinging them in quick
succession to the astonished butler. The doctor only waited to see her
actually mounting the stairs. Then, passing through Lady Ingleby's room,
he laid Peter's little body back on his dead master's bed, still wrapped
in the old tweed coat.

As he stepped back into Lady Ingleby's room, closing the door between, he
saw Jane Dalmain kneel down beside the bed, and gather the weeping form
into her arms, with a gesture of immense protective tenderness.

"Oh Jane," sobbed Lady Ingleby, as she hid her face in the sweet comfort
of that generous bosom; "Oh Jane! Michael has been killed! And little
Peter died, because Michael was dead. Little Peter _died_, and _I_ had
not even shed a tear!"

The doctor passed quickly out, closing the door behind him. He did not
wait to hear the answer. He knew it would be wise, and kind, and right.
He left his patient in safe hands. Jane was there, at last. All would be
well.

CHAPTER V

LADY INGLEBY'S REST-CURE

From the moment when the express for Cornwall had slowly but irrevocably
commenced to glide away from the Paddington platform; when she had looke