nly thought she'd rather get the good
news from an intimate friend like you. If it makes her break down a bit
she won't mind before you as she would before me, and it wouldn't be
wise to surprise her in front of the invalid. When Murray hears from my
lips, and Mrs. Murray from yours, there won't have to be any
preliminaries: they can just fall into each other's arms."

I argued no further. Indeed, there was no need. I knew as well as if
he'd had the embarrassment of putting it into words, how Sir Beverley
had feared that Rosemary might disappoint her husband, if the great news
were told in his presence. I thought also that if she were "strange" in
the way she had been strange before, he didn't want to see her being it!

All my lurking suspicions of Rosemary had died an ignominious death at
the moment when, radiant with the light of her own devotion, she had
tried to define the love she felt. I was sure that what Sir Beverley had
mistaken for "horror" was only an effort at self-control when--perhaps
rather suddenly--he had given his first hint of hope. But I didn't
insist to Sir Beverley. Rosemary would soon prove to him that I was
right.

He and I walked into the house together, and as he went to his patient,
I inquired for Mrs. Murray. Her boudoir opened off a corridor which ran
at right angles out of the panelled hall where many of the once famous,
now infamous, portraits hung. Murray had been moved down to a wing on
the ground floor after Sir Beverley came to the Manor, and this boudoir
of Rosemary's had a door opening into that wing. It was a charming,
low-ceilinged room, with a network of old beams, leaded windows with
wide sills where bowls of flowers stood, and delightful chintz chosen by
Rosemary herself. She came almost at once, through the door leading from
the invalid's wing; and as the sunlight touched her bright hair and
white dress I was thrilled by her ethereal beauty. Never had she been
more lovely, but she looked fragile as a crystal vase.

"Darling!" I exclaimed, snatching her in my arms. "You are a dream
to-day--but I want to see you more solid. You _will_ be soon--a strong
pink rose instead of a white lily--because there's the most gorgeous
news to-day. I met Sir Beverley and he gave me leave to tell you,
because I love you so much. Your dear man is saved. _You've_ helped to
save him, and----"

The words died on my lips. I had to put out all my strength with a
sudden effort to keep her from fall