the seance over and done with.

But Helene did not hurry. The more irritable Mme. Dauvray became, the
more impatient with Mlle. Celie, the less would Mlle. Celie dare to
refuse the tests Adele wished to impose upon her. But that was not all.
She took a subtle and ironic pleasure to-night in decking out her
victim's natural loveliness. Her face, her slender throat, her white
shoulders, should look their prettiest, her grace of limb and figure
should be more alluring than ever before. The same words, indeed, were
running through both women's minds.

"For the last time," said Celia to herself, thinking of these horrible
seances, of which to-night should see the end.

"For the last time," said Helene Vauquier too. For the last time she
laced the girl's dress. There would be no more patient and careful
service for Mlle. Celie after to-night. But she should have it and to
spare to-night. She should be conscious that her beauty had never made
so strong an appeal; that she was never so fit for life as at the
moment when the end had come. One thing Helene regretted. She would
have liked Celia--Celia, smiling at herself in the glass--to know
suddenly what was in store for her! She saw in imagination the colour
die from the cheeks, the eyes stare wide with terror.

"Celie! Celie!"

Again the impatient voice rang up the stairs, as Helene pinned the
girl's hat upon her fair head. Celie sprang up, took a quick step or
two towards the door, and stopped in dismay. The swish of her long
satin train must betray her. She caught up the dress and tried again.
Even so, the rustle of it was heard.

"I shall have to be very careful. You will help me, Helene?"

"Of course, mademoiselle. I will sit underneath the switch of the light
in the salon. If madame, your visitor, makes the experiment too
difficult, I will find a way to help you," said Helene Vauquier, and as
she spoke she handed Celia a long pair of white gloves.

"I shall not want them," said Celia.

"Mme. Dauvray ordered me to give them to you," replied Helene.

Celia took them hurriedly, picked up a white scarf of tulle, and ran
down the stairs. Helene Vauquier listened at the door and heard
madame's voice in feverish anger.

"We have been waiting for you, Celie. You have been an age."

Helene Vauquier laughed softly to herself, took out Celia's white frock
from the wardrobe, turned off the lights, and followed her down to the
hall. She placed the cloak just outside the