The Baroness glanced at the note, on which the ink was still moist, and read, “My dear Miss Lawrence, I want you to release me from the ties formed only yesterday—I am basely unworthy—” here the note ended. She now turned her attention to the message which had prevented the completion of the letter. It was signed by Judge Lawrence and ran as follows:— “MY DEAR BOY,—My wife was taken mortally ill this morning just before daybreak. She cannot live many hours, our physician says. Mabel is in a state of complete nervous prostration caused by the shock of this calamity. I wish you would come to us at once. I fear for my dear child’s reason unless you prove able to calm and quiet her through this ordeal. Hasten then, my dear son; every moment before you arrive will seem an age of sorrow and anxiety to me. “S. LAWRENCE.” A strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness’s lips as she finished reading this note and tiptoed down the stairs to her own room again. Meantime the hour for her hot water arrived, and Berene did not appear. The Baroness drank a quart of hot water every morning as a tonic for her system, and another quart after breakfast to reduce her flesh. Her excellent digestive powers and the clear condition of her blood she attributed largely to this habit. After a few moments she rang the bell vigorously. Maggie, the chambermaid, came in answer to the call. “Please ask Miss Dumont” (Berene was always known to the other servants as Miss Dumont) “to hurry with the hot water,” the Baroness said. “Miss Dumont has not yet come downstairs, madame.” “Not come down? Then will you please call her, Maggie?” The Baroness was always polite to her servants. She had observed that a graciousness of speech toward her servants often made up for a deficiency in wages. Maggie ascended to Miss Dumont’s room, and returned with the information that Miss Dumont had a severe headache, and begged the indulgence of madame this morning. Again that strange smile curved the corners of the Baroness’s lips. Maggie was requested to bring up hot water and coffee, and great was her surprise to find the Baroness moving about the room when she appeared with the tray. Half-an-hour later Berene Dumont, standing by an open window with her hands clasped behind her head, heard a light tap on her door. In answer to a mechanical “Come,” the Baroness appeared. The rustle of her silken morning gown caused Berene to turn suddenly and face her; and as she met the eyes of her visitor the young woman’s pallor gave place to a wave of deep crimson, which dyed her face and neck like the shadow of a red flag falling on a camellia blossom. “Maggie tells me you are ill this morning,” the Baroness remarked after a moment’s silence. “I am surprised to find you up and dressed. I came to see if I could do anything for you.”