please me by hindering the course of true love; and you, Julius,
tell Frank he was 'a dull Moor.' I liked the boy, I was sorry for
him; but he ought to have known his token better;--and there was the
estate to be saved."

"Estates weigh little now!"

"Clerical! I suppose now is the time for it? You were all
precision at Compton. It would kill me; I can't live with Mrs.
Poynsett. No, no, Tom, I can't have old Raymond quizzed; I'll get
him out of it when the leading-strings are cut. What right has she--
?"

The delirium had returned. Julius's voice kept her still for a few
moments, but she broke out afresh at his first pause, and murmurs
fell thick and fast from her tongue, mixing the names of her brother
and Raymond with railings at Mrs. Poynsett for slights in the days
when the mother was striving to discourage the inclination that
resulted in the engagement.

Earnestly did Julius beseech for peace, for repentance for the poor
storm-tossed soul; but when the raving grew past control, and the
time was coming for his ministrations to the Vicar of Wil'sbro', he
was forced to leave her. Poor old Sir Harry would have clung to him
as to anything like a support, but Eleonora knew better. "No, dear
papa," she said, "he has given us too much of his time already. He
must go where he can still help. Poor Camilla cannot attend to
him."

"If she came to herself--"

"Then send for me. I would come instantly. Send to the town-hall
any time before twelve, after that to Compton. Send without
scruples, Lenore, you have truly the right."

They did not send, except that a note met him as he returned home,
telling him that suffusion of the brain had set in. Camilla Tyrrell
did not survive Raymond Poynsett twelve hours.

CHAPTER XXX
Come Back

And are ye sure the news is true?
And are ye sure he's weel?--J. THOMPSON

Eleonora Vivian was striving to write her sorrowful announcements in
the deepening dusk of that autumn evening, while her father had shut
himself up after his vigil to sleep under Victor's care, when a
message came that Lady Rosamond Charnock earnestly begged to see
her. She stood with a face white and set, looking like a galvanized
corpse, as her lips framed the words, "He is dead!"

"No!" almost screamed Rosamond, snatching her hand. "No! But no
one can save him but you. Come!"

Without a word, Eleonora stepped into her own room, and came back in
cloak, hat, and veil.

"Right,