There was a strange brilliance in Jasmine's eyes, a hectic flush on her cheek.
"It must not be cashed for forty-eight hours; but after that the money will be there."
Lady Tynemouth caught Jasmine's shoulders in her trembling yet strong fingers, and looked into the wild eyes with searching inquiry and solicitude.
"But, Jasmine, it isn't possible. Will Rudyard—can you afford it?"
"That will not be Rudyard's money which you will get. It will be all my own."
"But you yourself are not rich. Sixty thousand pounds—why?"
"It is because it is a sacrifice to me that I give it; because it is my own; because it is two-thirds of what I possess. And if all is needed before we have finished, then all shall go."
Alice Tynemouth still held the shoulders, still gazed into the eyes which burned and shone, which seemed to look beyond this room into some world of the soul or imagination. "Jasmine, you are not crazy, are you?" she asked, excitedly. "You will not repent of this? It is not a sudden impulse?"
"Yes, it is a sudden impulse; it came to me all at once. But when it came I knew it was the right thing, the only thing to do. I will not repent of it. Have no fear. It is final. It is sure. It means that, like you, I have found a rope to drag myself out of this stream which sweeps me on to the rapids."
"Jasmine, do you mean that you will—that you are coming, too?"