He accompanied her to the door; he had become very attached to the pair--the charming girl devoted to her father, the elderly man who worshipped his daughter. "Keep a brave heart, my child. It may come to-night, to-morrow. He is worse than I thought." And three days after that interview with the kindly doctor the end came. The housemaid went into his room with his morning cup of tea. The poor old General was lying on his side, his face quite placid. But the girl knew that the pallor on it was the hue of death. She ran sobbing to Isobel's room. "Miss, miss! Come at once to the General." Isobel guessed immediately what that summons meant. She sprang out of bed and went to her father's room. One glance at the white, placid face confirmed her worst fears. She sent the frightened girl for the doctor. He came, and was able to ease her mind in one respect--her beloved father had died peacefully, without a struggle. The charming little home which had sheltered her for so many years was a house of mourning. She thought tearfully of his loving kindness, of the many self-sacrifices he had made to give her some small comfort, some little luxury. Even from a devoted husband, would she ever have such a disinterested love as that?--the love that gives all and asks nothing. But she was a soldier's daughter, and she braced herself to go through the ordeal, the most trying of all ordeals to affectionate hearts, the removal of the beloved dead. She first sent a wire to Maurice Farquhar, asking him to come to her. Then she sent another wire to the General's elder brother, the owner of the small family estates. In two hours came back her cousin's answer. "Am catching an early train." The Squire's answer came back about the same time. "Will be with you to-morrow morning." And then she thought of a quite new, but very sincere friend. Lady Mary Rossett. She wired to her the sad news. To Guy she wrote a long letter. If she had sent him a wire, he might have rushed over, and neglected his duties. That would have rendered no service to the dead. Lady Mary arrived first in her car--it was not a very long run from Ticehurst Park to Eastbourne. She explained that she had taken rooms at the "Queen's" for herself and her maid, and would see Isobel through this trying ordeal. The two girls clung together. Mary said she would like to look upon the General for the last time. Isobel led her into the darkened chamber, and Mary imprinted a kiss upon the waxen brow. "He was a most perfect gentleman," she said. "You will always be proud to remember that you were his daughter." "He was the dearest and the best. He was--" But Isobel could say no more, for fear she should break down. A few moments after Mary's arrival came Farquhar, lumbering up from the station in a somewhat antiquated taxi.