“Her ladyship has had no sleep for two nights,” the latter replied. “She has been so much better that we dreaded the thought of a relapse, so Mrs. Coulson, our matron, thought it best to let her have her own way about coming. Instead of telegraphing to you, unfortunately, we telegraphed to Doctor Harrison, and I believe he is away.” “Is it very wrong of me?” Rosamund asked, clinging to Dominey's arm. “I had a sudden feeling that I must get back here. I wanted to see you again. Every one has been so sweet and kind at Falmouth, especially Nurse Alice here, but they weren't quite the same thing. You are not angry? These people who are staying here will not mind?” “Of course not,” he assured her cheerfully. “They will be your guests. To-morrow you must make friends with them all.” “There was a very beautiful woman,” she said timidly, “with red hair, who passed by just now. She looked very angry. That was not because I have come?” “Why should it be?” he answered. “You have a right here--a better right than any one.” She drew a long sigh of contentment. “Oh, but this is wonderful!” she cried. “And you dear,--I shall call you Everard, mayn't I?--you look just as I hoped you might. Will you take me upstairs, please? Nurse, you can follow us.” She leaned heavily on his arm and even loitered on the way, but her steps grew lighter as they approached her own apartment. Finally, as they reached the corridor, she broke away from him and tripped on with the gaiety almost of a child to the door of her room. Then came a little cry of disappointment as she flung open the door. Several maids were there, busy with a refractory fire and removing the covers from the furniture, but the room was half full of smoke and entirely unprepared. “Oh, how miserable!” she exclaimed. “Everard, what shall I do?” He threw open the door of his own apartment. A bright fire was burning in the grate, the room was warm and comfortable. She threw herself with a little cry of delight into the huge Chesterfield drawn up to the edge of the hearthrug. “I can stay here, Everard, can't I, until you come up to bed?” she pleaded. “And then you can sit and talk to me, and tell me who is here and all about the people. You have no idea how much better I am. All my music has come back to me, and they say that I play bridge ever so well. I shall love to help you entertain.” The maid was slowly unfastening her mistress's boots. Rosamund held up her foot for him to feel. “See how cold I am!” she complained. “Please rub it. I am going to have some supper up here with nurse. Will one of you maids please go down and see about it? What a lot of nice new things you have, Everard!” she added, looking around. “And that picture of me from the drawing-room, on the table!” she cried, her eyes suddenly soft with joy. “You dear thing! What made you bring that up?” “I wanted to have it here,” he told her. “I'm not so nice as that now,” she sighed, a little wistfully.