"We sat up until twelve o'clock, and it seemed like a week nearly, Olive said, and we all hoped that she had gone to spend the night with you, and that is what kept us from giving up entirely. We were having a little argument when she left us," added Bea, dropping her eyes, but feeling that a little explanation was necessary. "So we thought perhaps she went off without saying anything, so as to frighten us." Kittie looked at Bea in curious amazement. She was so rejoiced that Ernestine was found, that she wondered why Bea should still be so white and tremble, and sit down every once in a while, as though too faint to stand. Finally concluding that it was fatigue and worrying, Kittie hurried down to the kitchen, built a fire, and had water boiling for tea in a hurry, and in just a little while, brought a cup of that invigorating beverage, and insisted on Bea's drinking it, and another, too, if she could. "How kind you are," said Bea, looking grateful, and trying to smile, but failing utterly. "You better go and drink some yourself. Where is Kat?" "She rushed right off again to tell Olive," answered Kittie, sitting down on the floor. "Poor dear, she will be tired to death. Oh, Bea, aren't you glad we found her before mama came?" Bea nodded yes, and hid her face in the tea-cup, while Kittie hearing Kat down stairs, hurried down to have a social and rejoicing cup of tea with her. Mrs. Dering arrived late in the afternoon; the twins threw open the big gate, shouting the good news as they did so, and Prince came gayly up the old familiar drive with a joyous whisk of his tail, and a loud neigh of recognition, and as Kittie and Kat fell to hugging him wildly, Mrs. Dering hurried into the house, and was met by Bea at the door. "Were is she? What does it all mean?" cried the terrified mother. "She was in the spare room--sick--we found her this afternoon," answered Bea, speaking as though the words choked her. "Come--come into the sitting-room, mama, and--let me tell you." Mrs. Dering followed, with a terrible fear at her heart, and was obliged to sit down, so trembling and faint was she; and Beatrice meeting that anguished, imploring look, could not utter a word, but simply put her hand in her pocket, and drew out a worn, faded letter. Mrs. Dering looked at it for an instant, then uttered a broken cry, and threw out her hands beseechingly. "Oh, Beatrice! my daughter! Not that, not that, surely!" "Yes, mama." Mrs. Dering dropped her face in her hands with a moan that came from the depths of her heart, and overcome with the confirmation of her fears, Bea sank into a chair and burst into tears; and nothing but her sobs were heard for several moments. Under all circumstances, Mrs. Dering was a woman of wonderful self control; so in a moment she looked up and asked: "Do you know anything about it?"