not give--anything--in return. Will you remember?"

And Magda answered her gravely.

"_Oui, maman_, I will remember."

What happened after that remained always a confused blur in Magda's
memory--a series of pictures standing out against a dark background of
haste and confusion, and whispered fears.

Suddenly her mother gave a sharp little cry and her hands went up to
her breast, while for a moment her eyes, dilated and frightened-looking,
stared agonisingly ahead. Then she toppled over sideways and lay in a
little heap on the great bearskin rung in front of the fire.

After that Virginie came running, followed by a drove of scared-looking
servants and, last of all, by Hugh himself, his face very white and
working strangely.

The car was sent off in frantic haste in search of Dr. Lancaster, and
later in the day two white-capped nurses appeared on the scene. Then
followed hours of hushed uncertainty, when people went to and fro
with hurried, muffled footsteps and spoke together in whispers, while
Virginie's face grew yellow and drawn-looking, and the tears trickled
down her wrinkled-apple cheeks whenever one spoke to her.

Last of all someone told Magda that "_petite maman_" had gone away--and
on further inquiry Virginie vouchsafed that she had gone to somewhere
called Paradise to be with the blessed saints.