Hyacinth went away from the dining-room with a faint, low moan. "How shall I bear it?" she said--"how shall I live through it?" It was two o'clock then. How were the long hours to be passed? How was she to bear the torture of her own thoughts? Whither could she go for refuge? Suddenly it occurred to her that she had no money. How was she to travel in England without some? She did not give herself time for thought; if she had, her courage would have failed her. She went to Sir Arthur's room and tapped at the door. The tremulous, feeble voice bade her enter. Sir Arthur was writing some letters. She went up to him. "Grandpa," she said, "I have no money--and I want some. Will you give me a little, please?" He looked at her in surprise--she had never made such a request to him before. "Money, child," he repeated--"of course you shall have some. You want to buy some trinkets--something for Adrian. What shall I give you--ten--twenty pounds?" "Twenty, if you please." He drew a small cash-box near to him, and counted twenty bright sovereigns into her hand. "Five more, for luck!" he said with a smile. "Always come to me when you want money, Hyacinth." She kissed him--he was so kind, and she had to leave him so soon. "Good girl," he said. "You will be very happy, Hyacinth. Adrian Darcy is the noblest man in the wide world." She turned aside with a groan. Alas! Adrian Darcy was to be nothing to her--in this terrible future that was coming he would have no place. Then she went to her own room, and sat there mute and still. Pincott came to dress her, and the girl went through her toilet mechanically. She never remembered what dress she wore. The maid asked something about it, and Hyacinth looked up with a vague, dreamy expression. "It does not matter--anything will do," she said, almost wondering that people could think of such trifles when life and death were in the balance. "There has been a lover's quarrel," thought Pincott, "and my young lady does not care how she looks." When the bell rang Hyacinth went down. How she suffered when she looked in her lover's face and listened to his voice, knowing it was for the last time! She did not even hear the name of his friends, when they were introduced to her. She sat wondering whether any one living had ever gone through such torture before--wondering why it did not kill her; and then it seemed to her but two or three minutes before dinner was over. Mr. and Mrs. Vernon--two of the visitors--suggested that they should go out into the grounds; and Adrian, delighted at the chance of a _tête-à-tête_ with Hyacinth, gladly consented. In after years she liked to recall this last interview. "Let us walk to the waterfall," said Adrian. "I shall have a photograph taken of it, Cynthy, because it reminds me so much of you."