"What has Lady Mary said? How did she part from you?" Peter looked at her in wonder. What was his mother going to do now? "She said she would write," he answered. "Her eyes were closed." Mrs. Paragon saw that this was not Peter's tragedy. She could leave him to his remorse. "Give me my cloak, Peter." "Where are you going?" Mrs. Paragon ignored his question. "What is Lady Mary doing now?" she asked. "She promised to wait for Antony. The division to-night is at eleven o'clock." Mrs. Paragon looked at the clock. "It is now half-past ten. Call me a cab, Peter." "You are going to her?" "Of course." On the way to Arlington Street Mrs. Paragon saw the radiant figure of the woman, to whom she had trusted Peter, in dreadful eclipse. She passed without a word Lady Mary's protesting servant, and went directly to her room. Lady Mary still lay with closed eyes where she had been struck down. Mrs. Paragon moved quietly towards her, and gathered her like a child. She opened her eyes, accepting Peter's mother with a clasp of the hand. "You have seen Peter?" she quietly asked. "He has just come home. He says he has for ever offended you." Lady Mary smiled. "I will send him a word to-night," she said. "I have just been trying to understand. I think I shall soon be happy. I know now that Peter does not love me. That makes it so much easier." "He worships you," Mrs. Paragon insisted. "Can that be restored?" "More than ever now. I am sure he would want me to tell you that." Lady Mary raised herself from Mrs. Paragon's shoulder and looked at her. "I cannot yet measure this breach in Peter. He has loved me from the moment we came together at Highbury. But to-night I was humbled. There was no love at all. I cannot now believe that Peter will ever truly love. There is a rift." "You are wrong," said Peter's mother. Mrs. Paragon told Lady Mary how lately she had watched beside him as he wandered in an empty house. Lady Mary heard the story of Miranda. "I think he is wandering still," concluded Peter's mother. "You should have found this girl," said Lady Mary. Mrs. Paragon paused a moment. "I have tried," she said at last. "Can't she be traced?" "You remember the great liner that went down four years ago? She was not on the list of people saved." "When did you discover this?" "I inquired shortly after Peter's illness." Lady Mary thought a little. "Perhaps it is better so," she said after a pause. "Why do you say that?" "Peter has surely grown away from these people. He would not have found his dream." A shutting door warned Lady Mary that her brother had returned. She rose from the settee, and went to the writing table. When she had finished her few lines, she gave them to Mrs. Paragon, who, asking Lady Mary with a look, was invited to read them: