Gladys did not, why the screens had been placed there.  The nurse drew one aside, and then slipped away.  There was absolute silence there when these four met again.  Walter, who had been sitting with his face buried in his hands, rose from the chair and offered it to Gladys, but he did not look at her, nor did any sort of greeting pass between them.  Gladys mechanically sat down, then Walter walked away slowly out of the ward.  With a low cry, Teen flung herself on her knees, laying her face on the white, wasted hand of Liz as it lay outside the coverlet.  The figure in the bed, raised up in a half-sitting posture, had an unearthly beauty in the haggard face, a brilliance in the eye, which struck her chilly to the heart; it was like Liz, and yet strangely unlike.  Gladys felt a strange thrill pass over her as she bent towards her, trying to smile, and to say a word of kindly greeting.  It brought no answering smile to the dying girl’s face, and the only sign of recognition she betrayed was to raise her feeble hand and touch the bowed head of the little seamstress with a tender touch, never bestowed in the days of health and strength.

‘Weel,’ she said, looking at Gladys, and speaking in the feeblest whisper, ‘I’m gled ye’ve come.  I couldna dee withoot seem’ ye.  Ye bear me nae grudge for takin’ French leave?  Ye can see I’ve suffered for it.  I say, is’t true that ye are to be mairried to George Fordyce?  Tell me that plain.  I must ken.’

These words were spoken with difficulty at intervals, and so feebly that Gladys had to bend forward to catch the sound.  She felt that there was not only anxiety, but a certain solemnity in the question, and she did not evade it, even for a moment.

‘They have fixed my marriage for the eighth of October,’ she answered; and the manner of the reply struck even Liz, and her great hollow eyes dwelt yet more searchingly on the girl’s sweet face.

‘It’ll no’ be noo,’ she said.  ’I’ve lain here ever since the nurse telt me she heard it was to be, wonderin’ whether I should tell.  If ye hadna been what ye are I wad never hae telt; but, though I hae suffered, I wad spare you.  It was him that brocht me to this.’

Gladys neither started nor trembled, but sat quite motionless, staring at the sad, beautiful face before her, as if not comprehending what was said to her.

‘It was him that led me awa’ first, an’ when a lassie yince gets on that road, it’s ill keepin’ straicht.  He said he wad mairry me, an’ I believed it, as mony anither has afore me.  Wheesht, Teen; dinna greet.’

The sobs of the little seamstress shook the narrow bed, and appeared to distress Liz inexpressibly.  Presently she glanced again at the face of Gladys, and was struck by its altered look.  It was no longer sympathetic nor sweet in its expression, but very pale and hard and set, as if the iron had entered into the soul within.

‘Is this quite true?’ she asked, and her very voice had a hard, cold ring.