g thoughts were of Hatty, not of
Edna, and she was dreaming about her when the maid came to wake her in
the morning.

Edna did not come down to breakfast; the storm had disturbed her, Mrs.
Sefton said. "I think it must have kept you awake, too," she observed,
with a glance at Bessie's tired face.

Bessie smiled and said a word or two about the wild night, but she did
not speak of Edna's visit to her room. Afterward she went up to prepare
for her ride, but during the next hour Richard noticed she was not in
her usual spirits, and questioned her kindly as to the cause of her
depression. Bessie made some trifling excuse; she had slept badly, and
her head ached; but in reality she could find no reason for her vague
discomfort.

The morning was fresh and lovely, and bore no signs of last night's
storm. Whitefoot was in frisky spirits, but she found herself looking at
everything with melancholy eyes, as though she were looking her last at
the pleasant prospect. In vain she strove to shake off the uncanny
feeling, and to answer Richard's remarks in her usual sprightly fashion.
The very effort to speak brought the tears to her eyes, and she had the
vexed feeling that Richard saw them and thought something was amiss, for
he told her very kindly to be sure and rest herself that afternoon.

Edna was in the front garden when they returned; she was standing at the
gate evidently watching for them. Bessie thought she looked very pale.
As Richard lifted her down Edna opened the gate.

"You have had a longer ride than usual, have you not, Richard? Bessie
looks very tired. Will you take off your habit, or will you go into the
drawing-room? Your brother has just arrived, Bessie."

"My brother? Do you mean Tom? Oh, what does he want with me? Hatty must
be worse." And here Bessie's numb, unaccountable feelings quickened into
life. "Oh, Edna, speak--what is it?" And then Bessie grew pale with
apprehension.

"Hatty is not very well," replied Edna gently; "but Mr. Tom will tell
you himself."

"Yes, go to him," whispered Richard; "your brother will be your best
informant; don't wait to ask Edna."

And Bessie needed no further bidding. Oh, she knew now what that vague
presentiment meant! That was her last ride--her last everything, she
told herself, as she hurried into the house. Of course, Hatty was ill,
very ill--dying perhaps--she always knew she would die. Tom's boyish
face looked unusually grave as he caught sight of Bessie. She