CHAPTER XIIIThe long, slim figure lay barely outlined under the heavy silk counterpane. Jean wondered as she stood at the foot of the bed, gazing at the white heart-shaped face, if Beatrice were still alive. The words rose up in her mind: 'Cover her face--mine eyes dazzle--she died young.' But before her fear could take root, the long-fringed lashes lifted and she found herself looking into the deep cold blue of Beatrice's eyes.
The western sun shone through the green damask curtains upon her empty outstretched hands, and rested upon a bowl of roses close to the bed. Every time a puff of air blew through the long thin windows, the scent must have reached Beatrice. Her great canopied bed with its slender posts was so high that she could look out on the lawn beneath the open windows and see
