Kyra fell back, with her face covered with her hands, to the pillow, and Mrs. Froyte bent over her and whispered in her ear:

"In the eyes of the law, Kyra, you are dead! As dead as if you were already buried. The doctor gave the certificate. Ah, I can spare you nothing, for you must be told, must understand exactly how the thing has been done, and how you are placed in the future. To-morrow the funeral will take place-Kyra Jermyn will have passed out of the world-that 18, if you will consent to carry out my plan, to finish it. You may refuse, denounce me-I do not know. It is for you to decide, for you only."

She shrugged her shoulders with a gesture of stolid resignation, almost of weary indifference.

"But you must decide quickly. There is no time to lose, not a moment-if you intend to finish what I have begun and carried through so far, and escape. Wait! Count the cost well. If you decide to carry out the plan, you must accept the fact that that you are dead. You must realise that you are already beginning a new life. Kyra Jermyn will have passed away forever: there will be no coming back, remember. The thing has-by luck, chance, call it what you willworked so well, that there is no chance of undoing it—while you remain silent. And to speak, to reveal the secret in the future would bring down punishment on my head as well as Stracey's and my husband's. You must decide now and once for all!"

There was a pause, then she whispered:

"You said you would rather die than marry Stracey-well, you have died! You will remain as one dead, unless you choose to denounce me. Wait a moment longer. In case you should resolve to uphold what I have done, I have thought of the future. I have some money-money of my own, that I have saved; and there are your jewels. Some of them are extremely valuable; with them and the money you would have enough to start in life-to live for some time on the Continent. You envied the factory girls the other day; you wanted to work, to do something in the world: here is your chance, if you decide to remain dead-to relinquish your identity. I won't say a word to bias you; I am indifferent; yes, I am so weary and worn in body and spirit that I do not care what becomes of me. But I will save my husband if I can. I will not help you to escape-as Kyra Jermyn." Her voice grew hard and cold. "He is my husband, and I still love him: he —he is weak and unable to resist temptation, but he is not

wholly bad, and but for Stracey- But, bad or not, he is my husband, and I have to protect him. Hush!"

She glided to the door and listened. When she came back, Kyra had risen and was sitting on the side of the bed. She was white to the lips, and her lovely eyes were dilated as if she were fighting against a nameless terror; but her brows were set, and there was an expression of resolution on her lips. She extended her hand to Mrs. Froyte and drew her to her side, gazing at her intently.

"I have decided," she said, in Mrs. Froyte's ear. "You are the bravest woman in the whole world. To save me you have done"-a shudder shook her "you have risked—ah, what have you not risked! What have you not undergone! I cannot realise it yet; and yet—yet I can; oh, I can! It is horrible, horrible! And do you think I am not grateful? If I had been your daughter, you could not have done more for me-have borne more! Yes, I have decided. I-I will finish what you have begun. I will be dead to everyone, to the whole world. There is no longer a Kyra Jermyn-"

She stopped suddenly, and the colour rose to her white face. There had been no Kyra Jermyn since a certain ceremony in a gloomy church at Benstead! She sat, with her face in her hands, thinking for awhile. She would never see Lance le Breton, her husband, again: never, never! He, with the others, would think her dead. Would he be sorry, or-or relieved? There flashed across her mind the strange expression on his face when they were parting, when he had asked her to let him kiss her. But, yes, surely he would be relieved. She was nothing but an incubus, the memory of an incubus; he had done a chivalrous, but a foolish, thing in marrying her; he had bound himself, for the sake of a promise given to a girl in distress-almost wrung from him, she thought, with a hot flush of shame-but her death would set him free. She drew a deep sigh. Somehow, for some strange, indefinable reason, the thought made her sad, even in this moment of the prospect of escape.

Mrs. Froyte had stolen to the door again to listen. She came back and regarded Kyra with cold alertness.

"That is your decision. Very good. There is no time to lose. This is what I have planned out-you may think of something better; you are more clever than I am: you must leave here to-night. You know the place?"

Kyra shook her head.

"No, not even its name, or whereabouts it is," she whis

pered. "Stracey was so cunning-ah, but we will not speak of him! Forgive me!"

Mrs. Froyte did not move, but said, with her old impassiveness:

"It is called Heydon. It is a small, desolate place in the marshes; there are very few houses, and everyone is known to his neighbour. You must not start from this station. There is a large one in a manufacturing town, about four miles away. You keep the high-road- Ah! what is that?" she broke off, as she heard a footstep in the passage.

Kyra started, and the two women clung to each other in silent terror as they heard a knock on the door; and Mrs. Froyte clapped her hand on Kyra's mouth.

"Are you there, Mrs. Froyte?" asked Mrs. Lambert's voice.

Mrs. Froyte remained silent for a moment, then she replied calmly, though Kyra felt the hand on her lips tremble: "Yes. What is it?""

"Let me come in," said Mrs. Lambert, in a frightened voice. "There's there's strange noises in the house." Mrs. Froyte quietly thrust Kyra behind the bed curtains, and going to the door, opened it a few inches.

"I have come for a drink of water," she said, "and am just going back. What is the matter? What has frightened you?"

Mrs. Lambert shuddered.

"Oh, I scarcely know! I suppose I must have been dreaming; but I fancied I heard footsteps-soft kind of footsteps going up and down the stairs, and in that-the room."

Yes; you have been dreaming," said Mrs. Froyte, with a calmness which amazed Kyra, who was clutching the curtains for support. "I'll give you a little brandy. Wait there."

She got some brandy and took it out to the shivering

woman.

"This house and-and everything's getting on my nerves," said Mrs. Lambert, in a low voice, and half apologetically. "It's all been so sudden; and the lying there and thinking that that dear, sweet, beautiful girl lies in her coffin-" The glass shook in her hand, and she gulped down the remander of the brandy. "Are you going back there? Well, I'd offer to go, but I can't. I'm all of a-shiver. And I thought I should have screamed out just now, for I couldn't get my door open for some time; it had got stuck with a piece of wood or something. Of course I was only dreaming; but it

was so life-like that I could have sworn that I heard footsteps -like someone walking in their stockings-on the stairs and in the room. I'll go back now: I wish it was morning. It's dreadful, only us two women in the house! Are you sure you wouldn't like me to sit up with you?"

"Quite sure," replied Mrs. Froyte. "You go back and try and go to sleep; but if you can't, don't be nervous if you hear footsteps, for this time they'll be real. I shall be about, making a cup of tea. I'll bring you some later on."

Mrs. Lambert thanked her and went back to her room, and Mrs. Froyte hastened to the almost fainting Kyra.

"You'd better have some brandy, too," she whispered; but Kyra put the glass from her.

Mrs. Froyte's courage made her feel ashamed. "No, no," she said. "I do not want it. I-am all right, and not afraid now. Do you think she will go to sleep? If she should not-"

"In any case you must go, and before it gets light. Wait here. You must not lock the door, for she may hear you. Get behind the curtain again if you hear her coming: you know my step?"

Kyra nodded and Mrs. Froyte left the room, quietly but not noiselessly. She returned presently, after an interval that seemed terribly long to Kyra, with a plain serge dress and some equally sober out-of-door things, and silently helped Kyra to put them on; but not until she had sewn the most valuable of the jewels-Stracey's bracelet, strange irony of fate! was amongst them-into the bodice; the remainder she made up with a small parcel which she placed in the skirt pocket.

"You cannot take a thing with you that you cannot get into this," she said, indicating a small brown bag. "But it will not matter. You can buy what you want. Here is the money-put it away safely. Now you must go. I will go down and open the door-I oiled the lock and the bolts yesterday, and they will make no noise; but close the door carefully and quietly. God keep you and watch over you, Kyra. I can do no more for you.'

Kyra put her arms round her neck, and whispered brokenly her gratitude; but Mrs. Froyte was no more responsive than usual; and after a moment unwound the arms and put them from her.

"Go now," she said. "It was a bad day for you, for James, for all of us, when you came to us. I pray that we may never meet again."

"You will not know what becomes of me-I cannot let you know?" said Kyra, fighting with her tears; for though Mrs. Froyte would have none of her love, Kyra felt the partingand under such circumstances-acutely.

Mrs. Froyte shook her head.

"No. And I do not want to hear. I want to forget, forget. Hush! Come now."

They stole to the door and inch by inch down the passage and stairs, each holding their breath, and going with fixed gaze like one treading a narrow path on a precipice. Mrs. Froyte opened the door, the key and bars moving noiselessly; and Kyra, with a gesture of farewell, was passing out, when she stopped suddenly.

"My purse!" she whispered. "I have left it on the bed!" Mrs. Froyte frowned and shrugged her shoulders impatiently, and turned to retrace her steps; but Kyra caught her

arm.

"I will go," she whispered, and, before Mrs. Froyte could stop her, she went quickly but noiselessly up the stairs. She got the purse and was coming down again, when a thrill of terror ran through her and brought her to a stop. She had heard Mrs. Lambert's door open. The next moment a whiteclad figure came rushing down the passage, calling:

"Mrs. Froyte! Mrs. Froyte!"

Mrs. Froyte and Kyra turned as if turned to stone, gazing at each other in the agony of suspense, then Mrs. Froyte called back:

"Well?"

"There's-there's someone moving about!" came the shuddering voice.

"Yes; it's I."

"No, no; someone, something besides you. I heard you down here and then the noise of soft footsteps29 She broke off abruptly, for she had come to the head of the stairs and her distended eyes, almost starting from her head, were fixed upon Kyra; and suddenly the brooding quiet of the house was rent by her scream.

"Look, look! She's there there on the stairs!" she shrieked, pointing at Kyra.

Mrs. Froyte looked at the spot indicated by the woman's shaking finger.

"Where?" she said, calmly, soothingly. "I don't see anyone, anything. What is it?"

"It's her! Miss Jermyn!" gasped the terror-stricken