“Ah! Madame Gobelli has not your hope and trust, Madam!” said Miss Wynward, “if she had, she would be a better and happier woman. But I must tell you that she is in the same room as Bobby! She will not be moved from there, but lies on the couch where we placed her when she fell, stricken with the paralysis, gazing at the corpse!” “Poor dear woman!” exclaimed Margaret. “Perhaps you would hardly care to go into that room!” “Oh! I should like it! I want to see the dear boy again! I have brought some flowers to put over him!” “Then, what name shall I tell her ladyship?” “Mrs. Pullen, say Margaret Pullen whose little baby died at Heyst--then I think she will remember!” “Will you take a seat, Mrs. Pullen, whilst I go upstairs and see if I can persuade her to receive you?” Margaret sat down, and Miss Wynward went up to the chamber which had once been Bobby’s. On the bed was stretched the body of the dead boy, whilst opposite to it lay on a couch a woman with dry eyes, but palsied limbs, staring, staring without intermission at the silent figure which had once contained the spirit of her son. She did not turn her head as Miss Wynward entered the room. “My lady,” she said, going up to her, “Mrs. Pullen is downstairs and would like to see you! She told me to say that she is Margaret Pullen whose baby died in Heyst last summer, and she knew Bobby and has brought some flowers to strew over his bed. May she came up?” But she received no answer. Madame Gobelli’s features were working, but that was the only sign of life which she gave. “Mrs. Pullen is so very sorry for your loss,” Miss Wynward went on, “she cried when she spoke of it, and as she has suffered the same, I am sure she will sympathise with you. May I say that you will see her?” Still there was no response, and Miss Wynward went down again to Margaret. “I think you had better come up without waiting for her consent,” she said, “if seeing you roused her, even to anger, it would do her good. Do you mind making the attempt?” “No,” replied Margaret, “but if the Baroness gets very angry, you must let me run away again. I am quite unequal to standing anything like a scene!” “You will have but to quit the room. Whatever her ladyship may say she cannot move from her couch. She attacked poor Miss Brandt most unwarrantably last evening, but that was in the first frenzy of her grief. She is quite different now!” “Poor woman!” again ejaculated Margaret, as she followed Miss Wynward, not without some inward qualms, to the presence of Madame Gobelli. But when she caught sight of the immovable figure on the couch, all her fear and resentment left her, overcome by a mighty compassion. She went straight up to the Baroness and bending down tenderly kissed her twitching face.