“Beatrice will tell you,” he said.  And he hurried out of the room.

A few minutes before six o’clock Beatrice arrived.  Mrs. Bertram had given directions that she was to be sent at once to her private room.  Clara had these instructions, and was about to carry them out literally when Catherine and Mabel ran into the hall.

They greeted Beatrice with raptures, and Mabel said in an eager voice: 

“We have not yet seen you in your bridal dress, Bee.  You know it was an old promise that we should see you in it the day before the wedding.  Don’t stay long with mother, Bee.  Catherine and I can walk back with you, and you can try on your dress while we are by.”

“My dress is all right,” said Beatrice.  “I have tried it; it fits.  I don’t want to put it on to-night.  I am tired.”

Her face was pale, her expression anxious.

Mabel hung back and looked disappointed.

“But you promised,” she began.

“Hush, Mabel,” said Catherine.  She hid quick intuitions, and she saw at a glance that something was the matter.

“Bee would not break her promise if she could help it,” she said to her sister.  “Don’t you see that she looks very tired.  Bee, shall I take you to mother?”

“Yes, Catherine,” replied Beatrice.

The two girls walked away together.  As they mounted the stairs, Catherine stole another glance at her friend.  Then almost timidly she put her hand through Beatrice’s arm.

“To-morrow, Bee,” she said, with a loving hug, “you will be my real, real sister.”

Beatrice stopped, turned round, and looked at Catherine.

“Kitty, I can’t deceive you.  I—­love you, but I am not going to be what—­what you suppose.”

“Then there is something wrong!” exclaimed Catherine.  “I feared it from my mother’s face when I saw her an hour ago.  Now I am sure.  Bee, are you going to fail us at the last moment?  Oh, Beatrice, you have made him so nice, and we have all been so happy, and mother has said more than once to me, ‘Beatrice Meadowsweet has saved us,’ and now, just at the very last, just at the very end, are you going to be a coward—­a deserter?”

“No,” said Beatrice.  “I won’t desert you.  I won’t fail you.  It is given to me to save your brother Loftus, to really save him.  Don’t be frightened, Kitty.  I have a hard task to go through.  I have to say some things to your mother which will try her.  Yes, I know they will try her much, but I am doing right, and you must help me, and be brave.  Yes, you must be brave because you know I am doing right.”

“I will trust you, Beatrice,” said Catherine.  Her dark eyes shone, over the pallor of her face there came a glow.  She opened the door of her mother’s room.

“Here is Beatrice, mother.  And may I—­may I—­stay too?”

“No, Kate, you are unreasonable.  What a long time you have kept Beatrice.  She has been in the house for ten minutes.  I heard you two gossiping in the corridor.  Girls are unreasonable, and they don’t understand that the impatience of the old is the worst impatience of all.  Go, Kate.”