"Mother," said Lord Earle, "my wife has pardoned me. She is my
own again--my comfort in sorrow."
Lady Earle touched Dora's face with her lips, and told what her
errand was. They must leave the room now--the beautiful face of
Beatrice Earle was to be hidden forever from the sight of men.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
That evening was long remembered at Earlescourt; for Lady Dora
thenceforward took her rightful position. She fell at once into
the spirit of the place, attending to every one and thinking of
every one's comfort.
Lillian was fighting hard for her young life. She seemed in some
vague way to understand that her mother was near. Lady Dora's
hand soothed and calmed her, her gentle motherly ways brought
comfort and rest; but many long days passed before Lillian knew
those around her, or woke from her troubled, feverish dream.
When she did so, her sister had been laid to rest in her long,
last home.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
People said afterward that no fairer day had ever been than that
on which Beatrice Earle was buried.
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