morning, drove away. She went back to Louise: inquisition for
inquisition, it was easier to meet that of her late patient than that of
her mother, and for once the girl spared herself.

"I know he thought I was very bad," whimpered Mrs. Maynard, for a
beginning. "What is the matter with me?"

"Your cold has taken an acute form; you will have to go to bed."

"Then I 'm going to be down sick! I knew I was! I knew it! And what am I
going to do, off in such a place as this? No one to nurse me, or look
after Bella! I should think you would be satisfied now, Grace, with the
result of your conscientiousness: you were so very sure that Mr. Libby
was wanting to flirt with me that you drove us to our death, because you
thought he felt guilty and was trying to fib out of it."

"Will you let me help to undress you?" asked Grace gently. "Bella shall
be well taken care of, and I am going to nurse you myself, under Dr.
Mulbridge's direction. And once for all, Louise, I wish to say that I
hold myself to blame for all"--

"Oh, yes! Much good that does now!" Being got into bed, with the sheet
smoothed under her chin, she said, with the effect of drawing a strictly
logical conclusion from the premises, "Well, I should think George
Maynard would want to be with his family!"

Spent with this ordeal, Grace left her at last, and went out on the
piazza, where she found Libby returned. In fact, he had, upon second
thoughts, driven back, and put up his horse at Jocelyn's, that he might
be of service there in case he were needed. The ladies, with whom he had