“I—­once I knew him.”

“He has never spoken to me about you.  Did you know him well?”

“No matter.  I knew him—­no matter how much.  He loves you, does he not?”

“I believe he faithfully loves me.”

“Yes, I saw you together.  There is no doubt.  I heard the tone in his voice.  You can’t mistake that tone, can you?”

“I don’t know.  I have not much experience.”

“You ought to have, for you are so beautiful.  Yes, he loves you.  It is all over.”

“What is all over?”

“Nothing.  Did I say anything wild of that sort?  Don’t believe the nonsense I speak.  I am ill, and my brain sometimes wanders.  There is a great fire consuming me, and I am tired of being burned alive.  Sometimes in my pain I talk wildly.  Nothing is over, for nothing really began.  You will be good to Captain Bertram, won’t you?  How you look at me!  You have very true eyes, very true.  Now I will tell you the truth.  Once I knew him, and he was kind to me—­a little kind—­you know the sort of thing.  I thought it meant more.  He has forgotten me, of course, and you’ll be good to him, for he—­he’s not perfect—­although he suited—­yes, he suited me very well.  How my heart beats!  Don’t talk to me for a minute.”

She lay back panting on the sofa.  Beatrice got up and walked to the window.  There was a long view of the High Street from this window.  The street was straight and narrow, with few curves.

At that moment Beatrice saw Captain Bertram.  He was a long way off, but he was walking down the street in the direction of the Bells’ house.  In about three minutes he would pass the house.

As Beatrice stood by the window she thought.  A memory came over her.  A memory of a man’s steps—­they were leaving her—­they were hurrying—­they were quickening to a run.  In a flash she made up her mind.

She came back to the sofa where Nina sat.

“Can I do anything for you?  Tell me quickly, for I earnestly desire to help you.”

“You are good,” said Nina.  “You have a true voice, as well as a true face.  Yes, I sent for you.  I do want you to be kind to me.  I want you to take a present from me to Captain Bertram.”

“A present?  What?”

“This little packet.  It is sealed and addressed.  Inside there is a story.  That story would make Captain Bertram unhappy.  I know the story; he does not know it.  On your wedding-day, after you are married, give him this packet.  When you put it in his hands, say these words, ’Nina sent you this, Loftus, and you are to burn it.’  You must promise to see him burn the packet.  What is the matter?  Aren’t you going to take it?”

“Yes, I will take it.  Give it to me; I will put it in my pocket.  Now, wait a moment.  I want to run downstairs.  I will come back again.”

She softly closed the door of Nina’s room, rushed downstairs, and out into the street.