At last she dropped into a feverish, uneasy sleep, the result of her weariness, but the words kept on, and she felt that she was repeating them as she went straight on towards a thick darkness, whose meaning she could not penetrate. All she knew was that she was irresistibly impelled towards that darkness, and it made her shudder as she drew nearer and nearer, till she felt that her next step would be into this strange mystery, when she found herself confronted by Ruth. "Are you ill, dear?" "No, not ill; only weary in spirit, dear. There, I am better now. But tell me about yourself. Have you seen Montaigne lately?" "Yes," said Ruth with a shiver. "He seems to watch and follow us. He was in Piccadilly this morning as we came back from the Academy." "The insolent!" said Marie calmly. "Is it time to dress?" "Oh no," cried Ruth, looking curiously at her cousins ashy face. "You have been to sleep, and forgotten how time goes." "Have I? Yes, I suppose I have. Let me see, there is no one coming to dinner to-night?" "No, not to-night," said Ruth, gazing with wondering eyes at her cousin. "No, no, of course not! My brain feels hot and confused to-day. I shall be better soon!" She rose, and then descended with Ruth to the drawing-room, chatting calmly with her over the five o'clock tea, and seemed as if she had forgotten the morning's incident. This went on till the dressing-bell rang, when, placing her arm round her cousin, she went with her upstairs to their several rooms, kissing her affectionately, and bidding her not be late. Marie looked perfectly calm when they met again in the drawing-room, where Lord Henry was awaiting their descent, and as Ruth entered she saw her cousin half seated upon one of the arms of a lounge, resting her soft white arm upon her husband's shoulder as she bent down and kissed him tenderly upon the forehead. She did not start away, but rose gravely, and directly after, dinner was announced, and Lord Henry took Ruth down. The dinner passed off much as usual. The conversation was carried on in the quiet, calm way customary at that house, and Lord Henry smiled gravely and pleasantly first at one, then at the other, as he retailed to them, in his simple, placid manner, some piece of news that he had heard at the club, to which Marie listened with her quiet deference to her husband, whose slightest word seemed always to rouse her to listen. When they rose Lord Henry left his chair in the most courtly way to open the door for them, Marie drawing back for Ruth to pass out first, while she hesitated, before placing her arms round her husband's neck. She kissed him on his forehead, holding him tightly to her for a moment or two, and then she passed into the hall and began to ascend the stairs, looking handsomer than she had ever looked to him before, as she went up with the soft glow of the lamp shining down upon her pale face.