ghed Lady Dashwood, in a suddenly
contented voice. Now she allowed herself to be helped out of her chair
and led upstairs to her room. "And can you _really_ stay, May? _Really_,
dear?"

"I must," said May. "You are so wicked."

"Oh dear, am I wicked?" said Lady Dashwood. "I knew my dear old John was
very tiresome, but I didn't know I was!"

So May remained. What else could she do? She left Lady Dashwood in
Louise's hands and went to her room. What was to be done about Mr.
Bingham? May looked round the room.

Her boxes had disappeared. Her clothes were all put away and the toilet
table carefully strewn with her toilet things. Louise had done it. On
the little table by the bed stood something that had not been there
before. It was a little plaster image of St. Joseph. It bore the traces
of wear and tear from the hands of the pious believer--also
deterioration from dust, and damage from accidents. Something, perhaps
coffee, had been spilt upon it. The machine-made features of the face
also had shared this accidental ablution, and one foot was slightly
damaged. The saint was standing upon a piece of folded paper. May pulled
out the paper and unfolded it. Written in faultless copper-plate were
the words: "Louise Dumont prays for the protection of Madame every
day."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE FORGIVENESS OF THE FATES

Lady Dashwood submitted gracefully to being put to bed and propped up by
pillows.

The doctor had come, pronounced his patient very greatly over-fatigued
though not seriously ill, but he had forbidden her to leave her bed till
he gave permission.

"Keep a strict watch over her," he had said to May, outside in the
corridor. "She has got to the point when rest will put her right, or
fatigue will put her all wrong."

When he had gone May came back into her aunt's room.

"Now you know what it is to be under orders," she said with a smile.

"And what about you, dear?" murmured Lady Dashwood, sweetly. "You can't
stay on, of course, darling?"

May frowned to herself and then smiled. "I shall stay till the doctor
comes again, because I can't trust you, dear aunt, to keep in bed, if I
go."

"You can't trust me," sighed Lady Dashwood, blissfully. "I am beginning
to realise that I am not the only reasonable person in the world. I
suppose it is good for me, but it is very sad for you, May, to be
sacrificed like this."

May said she wasn't being sacrificed, and refused to discuss the matter
any longer.