"Then perhaps, Aunt Selina, you can account for certain things...."
"No, I shall only tell you what I know. You must do your own accounting." She paused a moment and then went on: "You've heard nothing since you left Bar Harbor, I suppose?"
"Nothing."
"Beatrice was quite ill for a time after you left. For days she lay in bed unable to move, but there seemed to be nothing specific the matter with her. We called in the doctor and he said the same old thing—rest and fresh air. He knew considerably less what was the matter with her than any one else in the house, which is saying a good deal.
"Lord Clairloch left the day after you did. Beatrice saw him once, that evening, and sent him away. The next day he went, saying vaguely that he had to go back to New York.
"James, of course I knew. I couldn't live in the house with the two people I cared most for in the world and not see things, not feel things. The only wonder is that nobody else guessed. It seemed incredible to me, who was so keenly alive to the whole business. Time and time again when Cecilia opened her mouth to speak to me I thought she was going to talk about that, and then she would speak about some unimportant subject, and I blessed her for her denseness. And how I thanked Heaven that that sharp-nosed little minx Ruth wasn't there! She'd have smelt the whole thing out in no time.
"Gradually Beatrice mended. Her color came back and she seemed stronger. At last one evening—only Tuesday it was; think of it!—she came down to dinner with a peculiar sort of glitter in her eyes. She told us that she felt able to travel and was going to New York the next day. She had engaged her accommodations and everything. Of course I knew what that meant....
"Knowledge can be a terrible thing, James. For days it had preyed on me, and now when the moment for action came I was almost too weak to respond. Oh, how I was tempted to sit back and say nothing and let things take their course!... But I simply couldn't fall back in the end, I simply couldn't. After bedtime that evening I went to the door of her room and knocked.
"I found her in the midst of packing. I told her I had something to say to her and would wait till she was ready. She said she was listening.
"'Beatrice,' said I, 'I've always tried to mind my own business above all things, but I'm going to break my rule now. I'm fond of you, Beatrice; if I offend you remember that. I simply can't watch you throw your life away without raising a finger to stop you.'