tless. She could settle to
nothing till she knew what had passed between Nevil and Roy. His boyish
confidences and adorations of the night before had filled her cup to
overflowing. She felt glad and proud that her first-born should have set
his heart on the high project of trying to promote deeper sympathy
between his father's great country and her own people, in this time of
dangerous antagonism and unrest.

But beneath her pride and gladness, stirred a fear lest the scales she
had tried to hold even, should be inclining to tilt the wrong way. For
duty to his father's house was paramount. Too strong a leaning towards
India--no matter for what high purpose--would still be a tilt the wrong
way. She had seen the same fear lurking in Nevil's heart also; and now,
unerringly, she divined the cause of that hidden trouble which baffled
Roy. Nevil feared that--if Roy went to India--history might repeat
itself. She admitted the danger was real; and she knew his fear implied
no reflection on herself or her country. Best of all, she knew
that--because of his chivalrous loyalty that had never failed her--he
would not speak of it, even to his son.

Clearly then, if Roy insisted on going to India, and if a word of
warning must be spoken to ease Nevil's mind, only one person in the
world could speak it--herself. For all her sensitive shrinking she could
not, at this critical turning-point, stand outside. She was "in it"--as
Roy dramatically assured her--up to the hilt....

Time passed--and he did not come. Troubled, she wandered back towards
the house; caught sight of him, lonely and abstracted, pacing the lawn:
saw him stop near the great twin beeches--that embowered a hammock,
chairs and rugs--and disappear inside. Then she knew her moment had
come....

She found him prone in the hammock: not even smoking: staring up into
the cool green dome, fretted with graceful convolutions of trunk and
branches. One lightly clenched hand hung over the edge. Attitude and
abstraction alike suggested a listless dejection that sharply caught at
her heart.

He started at sight of her. "Blessed little Mummy--no hiding from
_you_!"

He flung out his left hand. She took it and laid it against her cheek: a
form of caress all her own.

"Were you wishing to hide? I was waiting among the roses, to show you
the new sweet-peas."

"And I never came. Proper beast I am! And sprawling here----" He swung
his long legs over the side and stood up, tall an