He ran up to visit his mother, whom he found almost speechless from weakness, yet waiting, with evident signs of impatience and temper, for her evening food. And while he and Letty were at their melancholy dinner together, Justine came flying downstairs in tears. Miladi would not eat what had been taken to her. She was exciting herself; there would be another attack. Husband and wife hurried from the room. In the hall they found the butler just receiving a parcel left by the railway delivery-cart. George passed the box with an exclamation and a shudder. It bore a large label, "From Worth et Cie," and was addressed to Lady Tressady. But Letty stopped short, with a sudden look of pleasure. "You go to her. I will have this unpacked." He went up and coaxed his mother like a child to take her soup and champagne. And presently, just as she was revived enough to talk to him, Letty appeared. Her mother-in-law frowned, but Letty came gaily up to the bed. "There is a parcel from Paris for you," she said, smiling. "I have had it opened. Would you like it brought in?" Lady Tressady first whimpered, and said it should go back--what did a dying woman want with such things?--then demanded greedily to see it. Letty brought it in herself. It was a new evening gown of the softest greens and shell-pinks, fit for a bride in her first season. To see the invalid, ashen-grey, stretching out her hand to finger it was almost more than George could stand. But Letty shook out the rustling thing, put on the skirt herself that Lady Tressady might see, and paraded up and down in it, praising every cut and turning with the most ingenious ardour. "I sha'n't wear it, of course, till after Christmas," said Lady Tressady at last, still looking at it with half-shut covetous eyes. "Isn't it _darling_ the way the lace is put on! Put it away. George!--it's the _first_ I've had from him this year." She looked up at him appealingly. He stooped and kissed her. "I am so glad you like it, mother dear. Can't you sleep now?" "Yes, I think so. Good-night. And good-night, Letty." Letty came, and Lady Tressady held her hand, while the blue eyes, still bearing the awful impress of suffering, stared at her oddly. "It was nice of you to put it on, Letty. I didn't think you'd have done it. And I'm glad you think it's pretty. I wish you would have one made like it. Kiss me." Letty kissed her. Then George slipped his wife's arm in his, and they left the room together. Outside Letty turned suddenly white, and nearly fell. George put his arms round her, and carried her down to his study. He put her on the sofa, and watched her tenderly, rubbing the cold hands. "How you _could_," he said at last, in a low voice, when he saw that she was able to talk; "how you _could!_ I shall never forget that little scene." "You'd have done anything, if you'd seen her this morning," she said, with her eyes still closed.