Reproaching herself for having wearied out her charge, the French girl knelt by her side, chafed her hands, and gradually drew her back to consciousness. At last opening her eyes, she shuddered violently, and shrank away as if possessed by some unaccountable terror. ‘Jane! Madame! Calm yourself. It is I, Adèle. Forgive me for tiring you with my foolish chatter, since you are so weak. I will fetch you your beef-tea, and then you will be better.’ Gradually the invalid became more composed, and partook of the nourishment which the kind nurse brought to her; but she still, from time to time, seemed to fix her eyes on some sight of horror, and to tremble with secret agitation. A little later in the day, as she sat leaning back in her chair and gazing in the fire, she heard the sound of wheels on the gravel outside. Adèle, who was at the window, uttered a joyful cry. ‘Madame! it is he! it is my friend!’ A few minutes later came a message from Sister Ursula saying that Adèle was wanted below, and that during her absence the messenger, a young country girl of seventeen, was to remain in the sick room. Adèle, with sparkling eyes and heightened colour, kissed the invalid, and departed. A long time elapsed. Jane Peartree, with her eyes on the fire, fell into a light sleep, broken by feverish flashes of dream. She was awakened by the sound of voices at her door. Then Adèle, smiling brightly, entered, accompanied by Sister Ursula. ‘I have brought my friend,’ she cried, ‘to speak to you before he goes. Come in, Mr. Sutherland.’ Before Jane Peartree could reply, a gentleman, hat in hand, entered the room. The invalid looked up as if startled, sat erect in her chair, and the full light of the wintry afternoon fell upon her beautiful face. She did not recognise the gentleman, but at the first glance he, to her horror and alarm, seemed to recognise her. Turning ghastly pale, and uttering a wild exclamation, he stood and gazed upon her, as upon a spirit risen from the dead. ‘What is the matter?’ cried Sister Ursula, in astonishment, while Adèle Lambert stood by trembling, and Jane Peartree, startled and terrified, shrank back in her chair. But directly the first shock of surprise was over Sutherland mastered his agitation, and quietly advanced into the room. ‘It is nothing,’ he said to Sister Ursula. ‘Pray forgive my stupidity, but for the moment I was startled out of my self-possession by a somewhat singular resemblance.’ He added, looking steadily at Jane Peartree:-- ‘They tell me you have been very ill. I trust you are now almost well.’ He waited for a reply, but none came. Jane Peartree still shrank back in terror or aversion, and endeavoured to turn away her face. ‘You spoke of a resemblance,’ said Sister Ursula. ‘What did you mean?’ Sutherland still kept his eyes upon the averted form of Jane Peartree, and saw that it trembled violently, as he replied:--