Dujardin; whose neck may the devil twist."

Ere they could drink to this energetic toast, a low wail at the door,
like a dying hare's, arrested the glasses on their road, and the rough
soldiers stood transfixed, and looked at one another in some dismay.
Rose flew to the door with a face full of concern.

Josephine was gone.

Then Rose had the tact and resolution to say a few kind, encouraging
words to the soldiers, and bid Jacintha be hospitable to them. This done
she darted up-stairs after Josephine; she reached the main corridor just
in time to see her creep along it with the air and carriage of a woman
of fifty, and enter her own room.

Rose followed softly with wet eyes, and turned the handle gently. But
the door was locked.

"Josephine! Josephine!"

No answer.

"I want to speak to you. I am frightened. Oh, do not be alone."

A choking voice answered, "Give me a little while to draw my breath."
Rose sank down at the door, and sat close to it, with her head against
it, sobbing bitterly. She was hurt at not being let in; such a friend as
she had proved herself. But this personal feeling was only a fraction of
her grief and anxiety.