Lady Honoria hesitated a little; she was standing in the passage. Then she glanced through the door into the opposite room, and caught a glimpse of Beatrice’s rigid form and of the doctor bending over it. Her head was thrown back and the beautiful brown hair, which was now almost dry again, streamed in masses to the ground, while on her face was stamped the terrifying seal of Death. Lady Honoria shuddered. She could not bear such sights. “Will it be necessary for me to come back to-night?” she said. “I do not think so,” he answered, “unless you care to hear whether Miss Granger recovers?” “I shall hear that in the morning,” she said. “Poor thing, I cannot help her.” “No, Lady Honoria, you cannot help her. She saved your husband’s life, they say.” “She must be a brave girl. Will she recover?” The assistant shook his head. “She may, possibly. It is not likely now.” “Poor thing, and so young and beautiful! What a lovely face, and what an arm! It is very awful for her,” and Lady Honoria shuddered again and went. Outside the door a small knot of sympathisers was still gathered, notwithstanding the late hour and the badness of the weather. “That’s his wife,” said one, and they opened to let her pass. “Then why don’t she stop with him?” asked a woman audibly. “If it had been my husband I’d have sat and hugged him for an hour.” “Ay, you’d have killed him with your hugging, you would,” somebody answered. Lady Honoria passed on. Suddenly a thick-set man emerged from the shadow of the pines. She could not see his face, but he was wrapped in a large cloak. “Forgive me,” he said in the hoarse voice of one struggling with emotions which he was unable to conceal, “but you can tell me. Does she still live?” “Do you mean Miss Granger?” she asked. “Yes, of course. Beatrice—Miss Granger?” “They do not know, but they think——” “Yes, yes—they think——” “That she is dead.” The man said never a word. He dropped his head upon his breast and, turning, vanished again into the shadow of the pines. “How very odd,” thought Lady Honoria as she walked rapidly along the cliff towards her lodging. “I suppose that man must be in love with her. Well, I do not wonder at it. I never saw such a face and arm. What a picture that scene in the room would make! She saved Geoffrey and now she’s dead. If he had saved her I should not have wondered. It is like a scene in a novel.” From all of which it will be seen that Lady Honoria was not wanting in certain romantic and artistical perceptions. CHAPTER V. ELIZABETH IS THANKFUL Geoffrey, lying before the fire, newly hatched from death, had caught some of the conversation between his wife and the assistant who had recovered him to life. So she was gone, that brave, beautiful atheist girl—gone to test the truth. And she had saved his life! For some minutes the assistant did not enter. He was helping in another room. At last he came.