And this was the letter the Rossiters had received and read, and wept over—the mother going from one fainting fit into another, and refusing to be comforted, because her son Philip was not. And then they sent it to Queenie, who read it with such bitter anguish as few have ever known, for in her heart she felt that with her cruel words and taunts she had sent him to his death. She was his murderer, and she felt as if turning into stone as she finished the letter and stood clutching it tightly, with no power to move or even to cry out. It was like that dreadful phase of nightmare when the senses are alive to what is passing around one, but the strength to stir is gone. There was a choking sensation in her throat, as if her heart had leaped suddenly into her mouth, and if she could she would have torn the collar from her neck in order to breathe more freely. When Margery came in she rallied sufficiently to pass the letter to her, and that broke the spell and set her free from the bands which had bound her so firmly. At first no words of comfort came to Margery’s lips. She could only put her arms around her friend, and, leading her to her room, make her lie down, while she stood over her and rubbed her hands and bathed her face, which though white as marble, was hot to the touch, like faces burning with fever. “You won’t go? You will not leave me?” she said to Margery, who replied: “Of course I shall not leave you. You staid with me, and I must stay with you.” Later in the day Mr. Beresford, who had heard the dreadful news, came to Hetherton Place, bringing the letter which poor Phil had written to Queenie from Madras, and which, together with one for his mother, had come in the same mail which brought the news of his death. When Queenie heard he was below asking for her she started from her pillow, where she had lain perfectly motionless for hours, and said to Margery: “Yes, I will see him. I must vent these horrible feelings on some one, or I shall go crazy! Show him up at once.” Years ago Margery had seen Queenie in what she called her “moods,” when her evil spirit had the ascendant, and she fought and struck at anything within her reach, but of late these fits had been of rare occurrence, and so she was astonished, on her return to the room with Mr. Beresford, to see the girl standing erect in the middle of the floor, her nostrils dilated and her eyes blazing, as they flashed upon Mr. Beresford, whose heart was full of sorrow for his loss, and who went toward her to offer his sympathy. But Queenie repelled him with a fierce gesture of both hands, striking into the air as if she would have struck him had he been within her reach.