“Five!” Five already, and she would not sleep another night under this roof. The whisky had steadied her, helped her; she rose and looked in the glass that an hour ago had reflected a woman who had hope left in her and saw that no eye but her own would see any difference. Andria Erle had looked nervous; Andria Heathcote was only a shade paler, a little harder-eyed. She turned to ring the bell, and saw something on the hearth-rug. It was a check for ten pounds, and at first she would have let it lie. After five years he was turning her out of the house with ten pounds! But it occurred to her suddenly that she had no other money in the world. “It is bad to have been made a fool of, but it is worse to keep on being a fool,” she said, with queer calmness, and stooped for the check. Another woman would have sat down and written an answer to that letter, which would have cut even Raimond Erle. But to quarrel openly was not Andria’s way. If an opportunity came to repay she would repay; it was no use to write what he need not read unless he chose. Once more she turned to ring for a servant, and this time did not falter. “Send my maid to me,” she said. “I have had a letter from Mr. Erle. He is not returning and I am going away. Lord Erceldonne’s agent will pay your wages.” She spoke gently as she always did, and the servant admired her for it; he knew, as she thought, that things were at an end. But he liked her, as did every one who had ever served her, and he kept his sympathy from his face. Her maid came as quickly as if she had been waiting outside the door. “I want you to pack for me at once, Louise, I am going away to-night, and I must leave you here.” “But, madam, you can never do without me,” said the girl awkwardly. She would like to go with the mistress who had never spoken unkindly even when she was displeased. “There is no room for you where I am going.” Andria’s voice was gentle still. “You need not pack my evening gowns. But you must hurry, Louise.” “Madam’s jewels, of course!” said the maid, with tears in her eyes. All the household but the mistress had known the end was coming. Andria turned to the windows. “I will see to the jewels,” she answered in a suffocated voice. “I will not take them.” The maid dared not say more. But it was well that Andria did not see her packing. Every gorgeous gown her mistress owned was in the boxes decorously covered with underlinen and every-day clothes by the time Mrs. Erle came up-stairs.