think she ought to come?"

Bianca answered: "I don't know where she is."

"I do."

"Ah!" said Bianca; "of course!" And she turned her head away.

Disconcerted by that sarcastic little speech, Cecilia was silent; then,
summoning all her courage, she said:

"Here's the address, B. I've written it down for you;" and, with puckers
of anxiety in her face, she left the room.

Bianca sat on in the old golden chair, watching the deep hollows beneath
the sleeper's temples, the puffs of breath stirring the silver round his
mouth. Her ears burned crimson. Carried out of herself by the sight of
that old form, dearer to her than she had thought, fighting its great
battle for the sake of its idea, her spirit grew all tremulous and soft
within her. With eagerness she embraced the thought of self-effacement.
It did not seem to matter whether she were first with Hilary. Her spirit
should so manifest its capacity for sacrifice that she would be first
with him through sheer nobility. At this moment she could almost have
taken that common little girl into her arms and kissed her. So would
all disquiet end! Some harmonious messenger had fluttered to her for a
second--the gold-winged bird of peace. In this sensuous exaltation her
nerves vibrated like the strings of a violin.

When Mr. Stone woke it was past three o'clock and Bianca at once handed
him another cup of strong beef-tea.