“Laurie had no right to go after the girl without my consent! He knows how I hate her and wish her dead!” “Oh, Lelia! Lelia!” Unheeding the old lady’s shocked remonstrance, she raged on: “The artful hussy stayed away just to have him go to find her; I see clearly through her little game to win him from me! Oh, I saw her bold eyes fastened on his face with adoration this morning. She wishes to win a grand, rich husband, to steal my Laurie from me! Oh, I will pay him back for daring to go after her without telling me! I will break with him forever! I will give him back his ring!” Miss Willoughby cried out reproachfully: “Oh, Lelia, you would not be so heartless! How can you stoop to such insane jealousy of poor Gipsy, who is too far beneath Laurie’s social sphere ever to dream of him as a possible husband? Oh, come, my dear niece; this is quite unworthy of you, and unjust to Laurie and Gipsy. You are still unnerved by your fright of the morning, or you would never fancy such nonsense!” Lelia’s only answer was an angry sob, and she fled precipitately through the hall up to her own room, rushing in and bolting the door against any intrusion from the frustrated old lady, who gazed after her in amazement, muttering: “Oh, dear, what a cyclone! What a tempest in a teapot! And over such a trifle! Whatever possesses my beautiful niece to get jealous of poor Gipsy? Why, if this goes on long, I shall be as mad as a March hare! I have it! I’ll send Gipsy off somewhere, to stay till my nephew and niece are gone. It’s the only way to keep peace in the family.” And having planned this easy solution of her difficulty, she threw open the window and gazed out with anxious eyes into the night, watching for the coming of the absentees. She had never realized until this hour of deep anxiety that the young girl had made herself a warm place in her heart. That her services were necessary to her comfort she frankly admitted, but that her presence was essential to her happiness she had never felt till now, when her prolonged absence and Lelia’s unjust jealousy had stirred her heart to a subtle warmth and pain. The tear of pity trickled down her cheek as she leaned from the window, with her mind full of heavy thoughts, and she murmured: “What is to become of the poor child when I am gone? She has just been handed on from one kind heart to another all her life, and there are none to whom she can turn by right. I realize now that I have acted selfishly, carelessly, toward Gipsy all her young life. She owes to other poorer people all the care and education she has had. I must show more interest in her hereafter, and leave her a legacy in my will in recognition of her faithful service since Mrs. Bond died.” In such thoughts she whiled away the half-hour that intervened before the return of Laurie and the men bringing with them unconscious Gipsy Darke. CHAPTER VIII. A QUARTER OF TWELVE.