Margaret was in a great state of anxiety, but possessing more self control than the rest of the family she was appointed nurse. Beatrice with the aid of salts and mustard plasters soon came to herself, but Lawrence Cathcart had done his work--rheumatic fever set in and for many days Beatrice hung between life and death. Mr. and Mrs. Langton were sent for and duly arrived but to no one would Beatrice confide the mystery of her illness. The more she thought of it the more ill she became and Honoria prayed a good deal. By the time she was able to get up her mind was made up. She would look for Lawrence Cathcart, ask his pardon and become his wife. Life offered naught else. CHAPTER 9 Ten years have passed since the events recorded in my last chapter took place, and Beatrice now a woman of 28, is fair and blooming as ever but with an anxious care-worn expression round her face. She no longer lives in the pretty cottage in Senbury Glen for Mr. Langton has lost a great deal of money farming, and he and his family have changed their quarters and live in a dingy little house in a London back street. It would take too long to relate all that has happened in the last years, so I will describe the events as briefly as possible. To begin with little Tina who was always a delicate child has died within the last four years and rests in the churchyard at Senbury Glen. Mary and Lily have had to leave school early and Mary, a girl of twenty is taking lessons in painting while Lily stays at home. One thing I must not omit to mention is that Beatrice is still on the look out for Lawrence Cathcart but fears she will never find him. One Spring morning Beatrice comes down to breakfast and finds Mrs. Langton busy with some papers. "Well mother" she says sadly for her merry tone has completely deserted her, "have you heard of anything I can do to earn my living?" "Yes dear I think so" replies Mrs. Langton glancing nervously at the manuscript in her hand, "you were always fond of nursing were you not Beatrice?" "Yes mother, ever since I had that illness" answeres Beatrice "it was poor Margaret Vindsor who put the idea in my head." "Poor Margaret" says Mrs. Langton, for Margaret may be numbered among the dead. "Well mother what about me?" asks Beatrice presently. "Oh I was forgetting" answers Mrs. Langton "I have heard from Captain Harsh and he says if I care to let you go to India he has a capital place for you as a military hospital nurse." "To attend to the soldiers wounded in battle?" asks Beatrice.