ining-room fire. The practical
moralist may acquit them absolutely. He who strives to look deeper
may acquit them--almost. For one hard fact remains. They did neglect a
personal appeal. The woman who had died did say to them, "Do this," and
they answered, "We will not."

The incident made a most painful impression on them. Grief mounted into
the brain and worked there disquietingly. Yesterday they had lamented:
"She was a dear mother, a true wife; in our absence she neglected her
health and died." To-day they thought: "She was not as true, as dear, as
we supposed." The desire for a more inward light had found expression at
last, the unseen had impacted on the seen, and all that they could say
was "Treachery." Mrs. Wilcox had been treacherous to the family, to the
laws of property, to her own written word. How did she expect Howards
End to be conveyed to Miss Schlegel? Was her husband, to whom it legally
belonged, to make it over to her as a free gift? Was the said Miss
Schlegel to have a life interest in it, or to own it absolutely? Was
there to be no compensation for the garage and other improvements that
they had made under the assumption that all would be theirs some
day? Treacherous! treacherous and absurd! When we think the dead both
treacherous and absurd, we have gone far towards reconciling ourselves
to their departure. That note, scribbled in pencil, sent through the
matron, was unbusinesslike as well as cruel, and decreased at once the
value of the woman who had written it.

"Ah, well!" said Mr. Wilcox, rising from the table. "I shouldn't have
thought it possible."

"Mother couldn't have meant it," said Evie, still frowning.

"No, my girl, of course not."

"Mother believed so in ancestors too--it isn't like her to leave
anything to an outsider, who'd never appreciate."

"The whole thing is unlike her," he announced. "If Miss Schlegel had
been poor, if she had wanted a house, I could understand it a little.
But she has a house of her own. Why should she want another? She
wouldn't have any use for Howards End."

"That time may prove," murmured Charles.

"How?" asked his sister.

"Presumably she knows--mother will have told her. She got twice or three
times into the nursing home. Presumably she is awaiting developments."

"What a horrid woman!" And Dolly, who had recovered, cried, "Why, she
may be coming down to turn us out now!"

Charles put her right. "I wish she would," he said ominously. "I could