Later in the evening they all adjourned to the billiard-room, with the exception of Daphne, who pleaded a headache, and bade every one good-night; but about an hour afterwards, upon the stroke of eleven, Madoline, who had just gone up to her room, was startled by a knock at her door, and then by the apparition of Daphne in her long white dressing-gown. ‘My pet, I thought you went to bed an hour ago.’ ‘No, dear. I had a headache, but I was not sleepy.’ ‘My poor darling; you are so pale and heavy-eyed. Come to the fire.’ Madoline wanted to instal her in one of the cosy armchairs by the hearth, but Daphne slipped to her favourite seat on the fleecy white rug at her sister’s feet. ‘No, dear; like this,’ she said, looking up at Madoline with tearful eyes; ‘at your feet—always at your feet; so much lower than you in all things—so little worthy of your love.’ ‘Daphne, it offends me to hear you talk like that. You are all that is sweet and dear. You and I are equal in all things, except fortune: and it shall not be my fault if we are not made equal in that.’ ‘Fortune!’ echoed Daphne drearily. ‘Oh, if you but knew how little I value that. It is your goodness I revere—your purity, your—’ She burst into tears, and sobbed passionately, with her face hidden on her sister’s knee. ‘Daphne, what has happened—what has grieved you so? Tell me, darling; trust me.’ ‘It is nothing; mere foolishness of mine.’ ‘You have something to tell me, I know.’ ‘Yes,’ answered Daphne, drying her tears hastily and looking up with a grave set face. ‘I have come to ask your advice. I mean to abide by your decision, whichever way it may fall. Edgar wants me to marry him, and I have promised him an answer to-night. Shall it be “Yes” or “No?”’ ‘Yes, of course, my pet, if you love him.’ ‘But I don’t; not the least atom. I have told him so in the very plainest straightest words I could find. But he still wishes me to be Mrs. Turchill; and he seems to think that when I have been married to him twenty years or so I shall get really attached to him—as Mrs. John Anderson, my Jo, did, don’t you know? She may have cared very little for Mr. Anderson at the outset.’ ‘Oh, Daphne,’ sighed Madoline, with a distressed look, ‘this is very puzzling. I don’t know what to say. I like Edgar so much—I value him so highly—and I should dearly like you to marry him.’ ‘You would!’ cried Daphne decisively. ‘Then that settles it. I shall marry him.’ ‘But you don’t care for him.’ ‘I care for you. I would do anything in this world—yes,’ with sudden energy, ‘the most difficult thing, were it at the cost of my life—to make you happy. Would it make you happy for me to marry Edgar?’ ‘I believe it would.’ ‘Then I’ll do it. Hark! there’s the outer door shutting,’ cried Daphne, as the hall-door closed with a hollow reverberation. ‘Edgar will be under my window in a minute or two. I’ll run and give him my answer.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘A lamp in my window is to signify Yes.’