She went through the evening as one in a dream. People offered her
laughing congratulations, and she never knew how she received them.
She seemed to be groping her way through an all-enveloping mist of
despair.

One episode only stood out clearly from all the rest, and that was
when all were assembled at supper and out of the gay hubbub she
caught the sound of her own name. Then for a few intolerable
moments she became vividly alive to that which was passing around
her. She knew that George Preston's arm encircled her, and that
everyone present had risen to drink to their happiness.

As soon as it was over she crept away like a wounded thing and hid
herself. Only a miracle could save her now.




CHAPTER V

THE MIRACLE

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Ingleton, rising to kiss her
step-daughter on the following morning, "I consider you are a
very--lucky--girl."

Sylvia received the kiss and passed on without reply. She was very
pale, but the awful inertia of the previous night had left her.
She was in full command of herself. She took up some letters from
a side table, and sat down with them.