"Good night; I don't think I shall come down to dinner, and thank you again very, very much, and--and please _remember_," were her last words. Ten minutes later Sydney appeared, dressed for dinner, with a rather troubled face. She was anxious about Eugenia, she told Gerald; it looked as if she had caught a chill somehow--she had persuaded her not to come down again, but to go straight to bed. "But talking of chills," she went on, hastily, "this room is enough to freeze one. What can it be? Why, actually, the window is open. My dear Gerald, what can you be made of to have sat here without finding it out?" Mr Dalrymple was dining with a bachelor friend that evening. It was pretty late when he got home to his wife, but he found her wide awake, and evidently in better spirits than she had been for the last day or two. "Well, my dear Henry," she began, "I am happy to tell you that for once your fears have been exaggerated. The Laurence girls were here to-day, and I told them--quite naturally, just in the course of conversation, you know--the piece of news I had heard. And I assure you, Eugenia took it beautifully; was not the least surprised or upset; begged me to send her congratulations, and so on. She cannot have been impressed by Beauchamp Chancellor as you thought, for she is a girl that shows all her feelings. It is quite a relief to me. I feel quite happy about her now." "Do you?" said Henry, with cruel satire. "I'm glad to hear it. Only I suspect your feelings are not at this moment shared by her family. Mr Le Neve was dining at Hill's to-night, and a couple of hours ago he was sent for in a hurry to the Laurences. He said he would look in again, and so he did, and told us the patient was Miss Laurence--Eugenia, I mean. And I can tell you _he_ is far from easy about her. My own idea is she's in for brain fever. Be sure you send round first thing in the morning to inquire." Poor Mrs Dalrymple was crushed at once. "Don't you think Mr Le Neve is rather an alarmist?" she ventured, timidly. But Henry was very unfeeling. "I can't say I do," he replied, leaving his wife to her own reflections, which considerably interfered with her night's rest. VOLUME TWO, CHAPTER FOUR. REACTION. ... The sorrows of all humanity Through my heart make a thoroughfare. G. Macdonald. Things, however, did not turn out quite so badly as several people anticipated. Eugenia's illness did not result in brain fever, though for a week or two it was serious enough to affect considerably the spirits of her little circle of friends, and to justify Mr Le Neve in looking rather grave.