"I am certain we shall have a letter from her to-morrow or Monday," said Frank, "for even if she were ill, her maid Rachel, who, we were glad to find, is with her, would write. And it is better for you to go home, and look as if nothing were wrong. Your staying here would only make a talk, and I shall telegraph instantly we hear." So Beauchamp went home--home to the desolate house where Eugenia had felt so sure he would never miss her; and the loneliness and anxiety and wretchedness of the next two days brought him face to face with some truths hitherto but little recognised or considered in his pleasure-loving, self-regarding life. And after all it was Roma's letter, reaching him on Tuesday morning only, which first brought relief to the fears growing almost more than he could endure, for, by some mischance, Eugenia's unlucky note to her sister, too late for Saturday's post from Nunswell, was not received at its destination till this same Tuesday morning. At first sight of Miss Eyrecourt's letter, Captain Chancellor could hardly believe his eyes. "_Roma_ with her," he exclaimed; "Roma, of all people! How can I reconcile that with Gertrude's story?" Incomprehensible as it was, however, the news was marvellously welcome. Half-an-hour later came Frank Thurston's promised telegram, and that very afternoon, hardly to her surprise, Rachel brought word privately to Miss Eyrecourt, that Captain Chancellor wished to know how he could see her. "He does not want my mistress to be told of his arrival till he has seen you, ma'am," said Rachel; adding discreetly, "of course with her not being very strong it might startle her, not expecting my master so soon." VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER EIGHT. O SI SIC OMNIA! "Und dennoch wohl uns, wenn die Asche treu Der Funken hegt, wenn dan getauschte Herz Nicht mude wird, von Neuem zu ergluh 'n!" Uhland. "Eugenia," said Roma, when they were sitting together later in the day, "I have something to tell you." "What?" asked Eugenia. "Some one is coming to see you--this evening or to-morrow morning, if you would like that better." "Who is it, Roma?" asked Eugenia, the colour rushing to her pale cheeks. "Not--not Beauchamp?" "Yes, it is Beauchamp," answered Roma. She had risen from her seat and now stood beside Eugenia, looking down at her with an expression of mingled anxiety and sympathy.