"This is the twelfth," he replied, smoothing out the letter paper, "I have dated it the thirtieth." "How do you know you'll die then?" "I don't know if I will, you fool," he retorted angrily, "but I think so--if I don't I'll write another cheque." "Yes, and change your mind." "No--no--a promise is a promise--if he helps me in the future I'll help him now--be quiet, you cat, I want to write." She remained silent, and very slowly and painfully the old man wrote a letter, then he directed the envelope to Reginald Blake at the Vicarage and placed the letter and cheque therein. After doing this he closed the letter and told her to bring sealing-wax and his seal. "What for?" she asked, going over to his desk. "Because I'm not going to let anyone but himself see what I have written--you needn't be afraid--I will do what I say, look at the cheque, you fool." She had brought a candle to the bedside so that he could melt the wax for the seal, and as he held the cheque out to her she read it in the dim light. "It's all right," she said with a sigh of relief, "I thank you very much." "You needn't," he retorted cynically, sealing the letter with the Garsworth arms. "I do it for my own sake not his; now put this letter in the desk and let me see you do it." He handed her his keys, so taking them and the letter over to the desk, she deposited it in the place indicated by his lean, outstretched finger, and having locked it safely up, blew out the candle and brought the keys back to him. The Squire placed them under his pillow, then lay down again with a sigh of exhaustion. "There, I've done what you asked," he said in a dull voice, "now go away. I'll sleep a little." Patience carefully tucked all the clothes round him and then left the room with a look of triumph on her face. "Now, Basil Beaumont," she said when she was outside the door. "I think I can laugh at you and your threats about my son." CHAPTER XXII. PHANTASMAGORIA. Shadows of what are shadows--living once Now naught but ghosts among a world of ghosts. Who knows--we may but shadows be on earth And act the other life's realities. Miss Cassy was greatly excited over the afternoon tea to which she had bidden Mrs. Larcher and the rest of the vicarage inmates. It was a long time since she had taken part in a little social festivity such as she had been accustomed to in London, so both herself and Una determined it should be a success. In the dreary dismal life they led this was a little mild excitement, consequently, it was to them as great an event as the ball of the season to a Town belle.