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After the first burst of grief, she bore her loss with fortitude, and found distraction in putting herself, her rooms, and her household into mourning. In her anxiety to appear elegant, even in her grief, we find her asking Beatrice to send her some of the white lawn veils that were made in Milan, since she could find none to her taste in Mantua.

"Yes," said Beatrice. "You must head straight out to sea for a little not too far, for if we get beyond the shelter of Rumball Point we might founder in the rollers there are always rollers there then steer to the left. I will tell you when. And, Mr. Bingham, please be careful of the paddle; it has been spliced, and won't bear rough usage."

"It was." "Yet you won out." "How?" demanded Monte. "She married you." "Yes," answered Monte, "that's true. I say, old man it's getting a bit cool here. Perhaps we'd better go in." Monte had planned for them a drive to Cannes the day Beatrice sent word to Marjory that she would be unable to go. "But you two will go, won't you?" she concluded her note.

While down below earth-level, of course, it would get more and more dense all the time, till at the bottom of a five-hundred-mile drop the density and pressure would be tremendous." Beatrice made no answer. The spectacle she was gazing at filled her with solemn thoughts. Jagged, rent and riven, the rock extended downward.

First came Lady Earle, solicitous about her health, recommending a long rest and a quiet sleep; then Lillian, full of anxiety, half longing to ask Beatrice if she thought Lionel Dacre handsomer and kinder than any one else; then the maid Suzette, who seemed to linger as though she would never go. At length she was alone, the door locked upon the outer world.

Was it because he knew that he was the cause of her silence? The face disappeared, and the spell was broken. Langhetti stood at the side-scenes, watching with deep agitation the silence of Beatrice. He was on the point of taking the desperate step of going forward when he saw that she had regained her composure.

Alex stood fumbling with the button of his great coat, looking much annoyed, and saying nothing; Roger called out to him that they could not wait all day, and he exerted himself to take Beatrice by the arm, and say, "Bee, I wish you would not, I am sure there will be a blow up about it at home." "O, you think nobody can or may drive me but yourself, Master Alex," said Beatrice, laughing.

Beatrice shook her head, and laughed again. "Is that what they call an Irishism?" she asked, with polite curiosity. "And an Irishism is a very good thing, too when employed with intention," retorted her friend. "Did he just chance, now, in a casual way, to mention the other woman's name, I wonder?" "Oh, you perverse and stiff-necked generation!" Beatrice laughed.

Beatrice made no answer; that look sent a thrill of fear through her. Oh; what had happened! Or was it all a dream? Had she dreamed that she stood face to face with Geoffrey in his room before a great darkness struck her and overwhelmed her? Or was it an awful truth, and if a truth, how came she here again?

Athel then, correcting himself, 'My dear Beatrice, no words could convey the anxiety I feel to be of service to you. You see how difficult it is for me to speak decidedly, but I assure you that I could not possibly act in opposition to your expressed desire. Perhaps it would be better for me to withdraw. I am sure these ladies