“Ursula!” cried Miss Mopius, in a fury—“Ursula, if I die, my blood will be on your head! I was ill enough, Heaven knows, this evening, and now I shall have a sleepless night.” She put her hand to her side. “Ah!” she said. “Ah!” Her face was deadly pale. “It is not enough that I devote my whole life to your poor old father, while you—live in luxury and pomp.”
“I am very sorry,” answered Ursula, lamely. “You have dropped all the Sympathetico on the carpet.”
It was too true, and this misfortune annihilated Josine. In her hand she held the bottle, from which the stopper had escaped as she fell.
“I had forgotten it,” she said. “I had to take some before venturing down. Now I sha’n’t get a wink of sleep. But I shouldn’t have got that, anyhow.” She shuffled towards the door. “Roderigue, would you mind watching me up the stairs? I certainly saw two men. But, of course, it is very dark. Is Ursula going to stay all night?” Up-stairs, at her bedroom door, she turned. “Nothing wrong, I suppose, at the Horst?”
“No,” called back the Dominé from the hall.
“Of course not—only mad pranks. Ursula’s behavior is criminal.”
The Dominé’s thoughts lingered over this last word as he returned to his daughter. “She did not even observe your bandage!” he said.
“The room is dark,” replied Ursula. “I am going now, but I just wanted to ask you this. I came to ask it. By-the-bye, Captain, did you know that if I were to die you would succeed to the Horst and the Manor of Horstwyk?”
“Yes, I knew,” replied the Dominé, gravely. “But you are young, and I am old.”
“Captain, dear, if ever you own the Horst, I want you to give it to Gerard.”