at Denby's."

"But, Phoebe--Phoebe!--think of long ago, how I would try to persuade
you to stop away just once, to please me--just only once! And now ..."
She seemed to have set her heart on her sister's going; a sort of not
very explicable tribute to "auld lang syne."

Gwen caught what seemed a clue to her meaning. "I see," said she. "You
want to make up for it now. Isn't that it?"

"Yes--yes--yes! And Ruth must go with her to take care of her.... Oh,
Phoebe, why should you be so much stronger than me?" She meant perhaps,
why should her sister's strength be taken for granted?

Gwen looked at Granny Marrable, who was hesitating. Her look
meant:--"Yes--go! Why not?" A nod thrown in meant:--"Better go!" She
looked round for Ruth, to get her sanction or support, but Ruth was no
longer in the room. "What has become of Mrs. Thrale?" said Gwen.

Ruth had vanished into the front-room, and there Gwen found her, looking
white. "I saw it," said she. "And it frightened me. I am a fool--why
have I not seen it before?"

Gwen said:--"Oh, I see! You mean the likeness? Yes--it's--it's
startling!" Then she told of old Maisie's sudden whim about the service
at Chorlton Church. "As your ladyship thinks best!" said Ruth. Her
ladyship did think it best, on the whole. It would be best to comply
with every whim--could only have a sedative effect. She herself would
remain beside "your mother" while the two were away. Would they not be
very late? Oh, that didn't matter! Besides, everyone was late. Granny
Marrable and Ruth were soon in trim for a hasty departure. But as they
went away Ruth slipped into Lady Gwen's hand the accursed letter, as
promised. She had brought it out into the daylight again, unwillingly
enough.

That was how it came about that Gwen found herself alone with old Maisie
that morning.

"My dear--my dear!" said the old lady, as soon as Gwen was settled down
beside her, "if it had not been for you, I should have died and never
seen them--my sister and my Ruth.... I think I am sure that it is they,
come back.... It is--oh, it is--my Phoebe and my little girl.... Oh,
_say_ it is. I like you to say it." She caught Gwen by the arm, speaking
low and quickly, almost whispering.

"Of course it is. And they have gone to church. They will be back to
dinner at one. Perhaps you will be strong enough to sit up at table....
Oh no!--that certainly is not them back again. I think it is
Elizabeth--from next door; I don't know her