Lady Standish began to tremble. She had wept much, she had not eaten, her heart was full of terror. Faintness she felt creep upon her.
"What will you do?" she said, grasping after the vanishing powers of reflection with all her failing strength.
"Do?" said Mistress Bellairs. "First of all, prevent the duel. Will that serve you?"
"Oh, yes," cried Julia, and grew livid behind her paint.
"She has got the vapours again," thought the other. "What a poor weak fool it is!"
But these vapours came in handy to her plans; she was not keen to restore Lady Standish too promptly. She called her woman, however, and helped her to convey the sufferer to her room and lay her on the couch; then she advised sal volatile and sleep.
"Leave it all to me," she murmured into the little ear uppermost upon the pillow; "I will save you."
Lady Standish groped for her friend's hand with her own that was cold and shaking. The ladies exchanged a clasp of confidence, and Mistress Bellairs tripped down to the drawing-room.
"Now," said she to herself, "let us see." Sudden inspiration sparkled in her eye. She plunged her hand into the depth of the brocade pocket dangling at her side, drew forth sundry letters, and began to select with pursed lips. There was Sir Jasper's own. Those gallant well-turned lines, that might mean all or nothing, as a woman might choose to take them—that was of no use for the present. Back it went into the brocade pocket. There was a scrawl from Harry Verney declining her invitation to a breakfast party because he had promised (with two "m's") my Lord Scroop to shoot (with a "u" and an "e"). Kitty Bellairs looked at it very tenderly, folded it with a loving touch, and replaced it in its nest. Here was a large folded sheet, unaddressed, filled inside with bold black writing. A crisp auburn curl was fastened across the sheet by an emerald-headed pin.
"Most cruel, most beautiful, most kind!"