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her breasts and shoulders and began to appear on her face and neck. Her bloodshot eyes were wide and staring and from time to time she shivered so violently that her limbs jerked uncontrollably and her teeth chattered. She had bitten her tongue and blood oozed from the corner of her mouth and ran along the cracked skin of her lips. Maria wetted the small towel and wiped it away. Was it her imagination or had Harriet’s breathing changed? It seemed more rapid and the shivering increased. Harriet tried to speak but her voice was no more than a painful croak and Maria leaned over her to try and hear what she said.
    ‘What is it, child?’ she asked gently. ‘Are you cold? Or thirsty? Is it Allan you speak of? He will be home directly, never fear. We have sent for him. Take a sip of wine to ease your throat.’
    Harriet struggled to speak and Maria helped her to sit up a little and raised the flagon to her parched lips. Harriet managed a mouthful before she caught sight of her arm, and gave a moan of fear. Her pale wrist was speckled with three dark spots. Harriet understood their significance and stared at them, transfixed with horror.
    Maria held her hand, patting it reassuringly. ‘’Tis nothing,’ she told her. ‘Three little spots!’
    But now Harriet rubbed at the marks, uttering shrill cries of alarm. The sound, like an animal in distress, chilled Maria’s heart. The girl turned her head slowly and became aware of the tokens on her right shoulder and then she looked down at her body and saw her speckled breasts.
    She began to claw frantically at her skin, trying to rid herself of the offending spots, and she summoned deep reserves of energy so that her movements were forceful and her nails tore into the skin, streaking it with blood. Dimly, Maria was aware of hoofbeats outside and her heart sank. God forbid ’tis Allan, she whispered, but she knew it was very probable.
    She pleaded frantically with her daughter-in-law, aware of Allan’s imminent arrival. ‘Stop that, Harriet! No, you must not. D’you hear me, child. Oh, stop. I beg you.’
    But the demented girl fought off her restraining hands and then there were footsteps on the stairs and Allan ran into the room.
    ‘Help me, Allan. For pity’s sake, help me,’ cried Maria.
    He flinched at the sight that met his eyes — Harriet was half out of bed, screaming hysterically, her body running with blood from countless self-inflicted weals.
    ‘Help me hold her. Oh, what is to be done with her? Should we tie her down? Allan — Ah!’ She winced in sudden pain as Harriet lashed out at them, and a powerful blow caught her across the side of the head and sent her staggering off-balance. As she fell, she struck her head against the corner of the four-poster.
    ‘Mama!’
    Allan turned his attention momentarily from Harriet to Maria and in a flash the girl pulled free of his grasp and ran out of the room.
    ‘Are you hurt, Mama?’
    She shook her head dazedly. ‘Harriet — go after her,’ she gasped, and he left her and ran out on to the landing. Already, the girl was at the bottom of the stairs. She ran straight into Ellie, who was turning the corner carrying an armful of freshly ironed linen. The little maid took one look at the dreadful sight, dropped the linen and fled back to the kitchen, white-faced and speechless with shock.
    Beth could get no sense from her so she hurried out into the hall in time to see Allan run out of the front door.
    ‘Now what’s amiss?’ she demanded and, looking after him, drew her breath sharply and crossed herself. ‘Tis the end, poor child! ’Tis the way they go, some of them. Some die slow and others burn themselves out in a flash.’ Ellie, who had crept out after her, burst into tears and clung to Beth, who put a comforting arm round her.
    ‘Harriet! No!’ shouted Allan, for the girl was running in the direction of the river. She reached the top of the steps which led down to the lower garden. She turned abruptly and