Her maid, half dead with fatigue, slept in a chair, and young Mrs. Malcourt aroused her and sent her off to bed.  Then she roamed through the rooms, striving to occupy her mind with the negative details of the furnishing; but it was all drearily harmless, unaccented anywhere by personal taste, merely the unmeaning harmony executed by a famous New York decorator, at Portlaw’s request—­a faultless monotony from garret to basement.

There was a desk in one room; ink in the well, notepaper bearing the name of Portlaw’s camp.  She looked at it and passed on to her bedroom.

But after she had unlaced and, hair unbound, stood staring vacantly about her, she remembered the desk; and drawing on her silken chamber-robe, went into the writing-room.

At intervals, during her writing, she would rise and gaze from the window across the darkness where in the sick-room a faint, steady glow remained; and she could see the white curtains in his room stirring like ghosts in the soft night wind and the shadow of the nurse on wall and ceiling.

“Dear, dear dad and mother,” she wrote; “Mr. Portlaw was so anxious for Louis to begin his duties that we decided to come at once, particularly as we both were somewhat worried over the serious illness of Mr. Hamil.

“He is very, very ill, poor fellow.  The sudden change from the South brought on pneumonia.  I know that you both and Gray and Cecile and Jessie will feel as sorry as I do.  His aunt, Miss Palliser, is here.  To-night I was permitted to see him.  Only his eyes were visible and they were wide open.  It is very dreadful, very painful, and has cast a gloom over our gaiety.

   “To-night Dr. Lansdale said that he would pull him through.  I am
   afraid he said it to encourage Miss Palliser.

“This is a beautiful place—­” She dropped her pen with a shudder, closed her eyes, groped for it again, and forced herself to continue—­“Mr. Portlaw is very kind.  The superintendent’s house is large and comfortable.  Louis begins his duties to-morrow.  Everything promises to be most interesting and enjoyable—­” She laid her head in her arms, remaining so, motionless until somewhere on the floor below a clock struck midnight.”

At last she managed to go on: 

“Dad, dear; what you said to Louis about my part of your estate was very sweet and generous of you; but I do not want it.  Louis and I have talked it over in the last fortnight and we came to the conclusion that you must make no provision for me at present.  We wish to begin very simply and make our own way.  Besides I know from something I heard Acton say that even very wealthy people are hard pressed for ready money; and so Phil Gatewood acted as our attorney and Mr. Cuyp’s firm as our brokers and now the Union Pacific and Government bonds have been transferred to Colonel Vetchen’s bank subject to your order—­is that the term?—­and the