her cold adieux.

But Helena Richie was oblivious of Mrs. King's coldness; her anxiety
and dismay had grown into an uncontrollable nervousness, and when at
last, thinking she was alone, she threw up her arms with a gesture of
relief, the sight of William King, coming gravely towards her, made
her break into an angry exclamation. But before she knew it, he had
taken her hand, and was holding it in his kind clasp.

"Mrs. Richie, I am afraid I must give you bad news."

"Bad--news--?"

"A telegram has come," he began, taking the envelope from his pocket;
but she interrupted him, Seizing it with a sort of gasp and tearing it
open. A moment later she stood quite still, looking at the despatch,
then with dilating eyes at the doctor, and again at the despatch. She
pressed her fingers hard against her lips, and he saw that she was
trembling.

"You must sit down," he said gently, and put his big, quiet hand on
her shoulder. She sank under his firm touch into a chair.

"It is not--bad news."

"I am glad of that," William said. "But you are a little pale," he
added smiling.

"It was a shock."