So the day ended in sadness after all, for though Eileen came round quickly, she was almost too weak to stand, and in the evening Jack helped her across to The Ghan House, and then went to fetch the doctor. It had been arranged for her and Paddy and their mother to start for London the first week in January, where Dr Adair had already taken a house for them, and they were to stay with him while the furniture followed, but in Eileen’s state of health this seemed very unwise, and it was finally decided Jack and Paddy should start off together, and Mrs Adair and Eileen should move over to the Parsonage, and remain there for a week or two following to London when their own home was ready. Mrs Adair and Aunt Jane and Paddy and Jack planned it all in a consultation that Christmas evening, while little Miss Mary sat upstairs with Eileen. It was an opportunity she had wished for some time, for her understanding heart saw that Eileen would be better if she could be induced to speak of her pain, and she believed that she held a key that would unlock her confidence. She carefully closed the door and made up the fire, before she drew an arm-chair beside the bed, and sat down, saying: “I think we shall have a quiet hour now, dearie, for the others are talking business, and that will be so nice, won’t it?” Eileen smiled her consent, and Miss Mary went on talking softly, in a soothing way that was natural to her. Presently she laid a little wasted hand on the invalid’s and said simply: “Eileen, my dear, you have always been especially precious to me. It goes to my heart to feel that you are unhappy and none of us can do anything.” The quick tears sprang to Eileen’s eyes, but she made no reply. “I have been thinking, perhaps, if you could trust me—” Miss Mary continued a little hesitatingly. “I know how difficult it is to speak of anything like this—I know how terrible it is to bear. I once suffered in just the same way myself, dearie, only perhaps for me it was a little harder, for we were actually engaged.” Eileen was crying quietly now, wholly undone by Miss Mary’s tenderness, and made no attempt to speak. “I always meant to tell you about it some day, if you cared to hear,” Miss Mary went on, softly stroking the girl’s hand, “and I have been thinking I would like to tell you now, or shall I weary you?” “No, please tell me,” murmured Eileen, and her fingers closed lovingly over her companion’s.