"hush!" said jani, "missie sahib ill. must not be disturbed."

"is she in bed?" whispered aspasia. "don't be a stupid, jani. i shan't do her any harm."

with her hand on the door handle, jani shook her head till the monstrous gold ear-rings waggled against her cheeks.

"missie sahib, no more disturbed to-night," she repeated emphatically. her opaque eyes were fixed with triumphant resentment upon aspasia's countenance. aspasia, the off-hand young lady, who flouted old jani's vested right, who had taken upon herself to do lady gerardine's hair this very night, must learn that her presence was not always desirable.

"who is there?" cried rosamond's voice, high and strained, from within. "i can see no one. jani, you must let no one in."

"there, missie," said the old woman.

aspasia pushed the claw-like hand ruthlessly from the door knob.

"it is i, aunt rosamond," said she, tapping the panels with soft consolatory palms. "you'll let me in, darling, won't you? i'll do police, too, never fear, and better than jani."

"oh, you! come in," bade the voice within, faintly, but with an unmistakable accent of relief.

aspasia made a face at jani, but passed in with something less than her usual flounce. lady gerardine was seated before the fire in her white dressing-gown, her arms hanging, her hair loose about her. jani had evidently been interrupted in the act of brushing by the sound of the approaching footsteps, and had flown to her sentry post.

"stay outside, jani. lock the door, baby."

lady gerardine just turned her head sufficiently to give these orders, then relapsed into her brooding attitude, her eyes hard, dry, encircled, fixed unseeingly upon the fire, her face livid, save for the burning spot on either cheekbone. aspasia, aghast, stopped a second to survey her.

"she does look very ill," she thought hopelessly. "worse than ill." and her heart contracted.

"darling," she said, approaching timidly, "just let me plait this dear hair, and then you must get to bed."

"i wish it were shrivelled on my head!" said lady gerardine, staring before her, and sending out her words, it seemed, as aimlessly as her glance. "it is accursed."

"aunt rosamond, what are you saying!"

"harry loved it. it was his hair, his golden hair, and that other man has put his horrible touch upon it."

"there's no doubt of it," said baby to herself, as with the gentlest of touches she gathered the long strands together, "though i'll never admit it to any one; darling aunt rosamond is mad. those dreadful letters, the poor dead husband, and the horrid old living one have driven her mad between them! they shan't shut her up, though, not while i live, not while i can fight."

the child had no fear in her heart for herself. how could any one, she thought with a great gush of compassion, have fear of this poor, desolate, beautiful creature? she finished the plait, while the figure before her maintained its sinister immobility. then she leaned forward and slipped her arms round it in a close embrace.

"my angel, how cold you are! only your cheeks are hot—hot."

"don't kiss me," said lady gerardine. "you don't know what defilement you are holding."

"dear aunt, come to bed."

"i was his, his consecrate—body and soul, and i gave myself to another."

"oh, aunt rosamond," cried the girl, with a sudden upspringing of tears, as a glimmering realisation of the other's anguished mind broke, upon her. "he is a happy spirit. he understands."

"it is you who cannot understand," angrily answered the woman. "even in life he wrote: 'my flesh rebels against the thought.' it was the worst sting of death to him. and i never knew. now i have lost him, i am lost."

baby took the nerveless hands in hers, and chafed them while her tears rolled slowly.

"pray to god, dearest," she whispered. "he will help you."

rosamond drew away her hand with a great cry.

"god? there is no god!"

"oh, aunt!"

"yes—there is, there is—a god of unsparing justice. only a god could be so merciless and so just. it is just, it is just. i have sinned irremediably. i am punished for ever. what can you—you child, you child, what can you know of my sin?"

"i know this," cried baby, kneeling down and gathering the cowering form to her strong embrace; "that you are ill, that you don't know what you're saying. but god is mercy," sobbed aspasia, very reverently—she was shy of her religion, and spoke low, even amid her tears; "i know that god is mercy, and that those who are with him must be merciful too."

"do you cry for me?" said lady gerardine, a sort of wonder in her weary tones, as the wet cheeks were pressed against her face. "i cannot cry for myself. i am beyond tears."

with this, she suffered herself to be helped to rise, and made a feeble movement towards the bed. but at the sound of a closing door beneath, of steps on the stairs, she started violently and clutched the girl's arm.

"you will not let anybody in.... nobody must come into my room—aspasia—aspasia!"

"no, no! the door is locked. darling, don't be so frightened; how your teeth chatter! aunt, i promise you shall be left in peace. i will watch. can't you trust me? they'd better not!" she added convincingly, if vaguely.

the long convulsive shudders continued even after baby had coaxed her to bed, and piled the bedclothes over her. she sat a long while by the sick woman, still rubbing the bloodless fingers, speaking soothingly from time to time. but rosamond herself spoke no more.

at last silence fell upon the old ancient house. steps ceased to resound along the echoing oak. doors were definitely closed; even lady aspasia's pervading voice seemed to be hushed for the night. then lady gerardine suddenly turned to her niece with something of her old gentle look:

"go to bed, my child," she said. "sleep, at least while you can. your little face looks tired!"

"i'll sleep here with you, if you'll have me," said aspasia, kissing the hand she held.

"no, no," said the other. "i must be alone. i shall have jani, she will watch. good night."

poor healthy baby was in truth ready to tumble over with fatigue, and had found her head, to her own fierce displeasure, nodding portentously from time to time. she went forth with the uncertain gait of the sleep-drunken, but paused at the door to give jani minute and repeated instructions, which the latter, vividly alert, received with undisguised scorn. with much satisfaction the ayah re-entered her mistress' room, and locked the door upon her drowsy rival.