aw and looked out the trains for Lostford.

CHAPTER XXVIII

Tard oublie qui bien aime.

On this momentous afternoon Magdalen was sitting alone in the
morning-room at Priesthope somewhat oppressed by an oncoming cold. It
had not yet reached the violent and weeping stage. That was for
to-morrow. She, who was generally sympathetically dressed, was
reluctantly enveloped in a wiry red crochet-work shawl which Bessie had
made for her, and had laid resolutely upon her shoulders before she went
out.

She tried to read, but her eyes ached, and after a time she laid down
her book, and her mind went back, as it had a way of doing--to Fay.

Fay had told her as "a great secret" that she had accepted Wentworth.
She was so transfigured by happiness, so radiant, so absolutely unlike
her former listless, colourless, carping self that Magdalen could only
suppose that two shocks of joy had come simultaneously, the discovery
that she loved her prim suitor, and the overwhelming relief to her
tortured conscience of Michael's release.

Wentworth and Michael were still at Venice. Michael, it seemed, had been
prostrated by excitement, and had been too weak to travel immediately.
But they would be at Barford in a few days' time.

When Magdalen saw Fay entirely absorbed in trying on a succession of new
summer hats, sent for from London in preparation for Wentworth's
return, she asked herself for the twentieth time whether Fay had
entirely forgotten her previous attraction for Michael, or that there
might be some awkwardness in meeting her faithful lover and servant
again, especially as the future wife of his brother.

Two years had certainly elapsed since that sudden flare-up of disastrous
passion, and in two years much can be forgotten. But after two years
everything may still be remembered, as Magdalen knew well. And she
feared that Michael was among those who remember.

Magdalen had that day told Fay of her father's intention of marrying
again, but she took almost no notice of the announcement. To use one of
Aunt Aggie's metaphors, the news "seemed to slide off her back like a
duck."

She only said, "Really! How silly of him!"

As Magdalen thought of Fay the door opened and Bessie, who was supposed
to have gone for a walk, came in.

She had a spray of crab-apple blossom in her hand. She held it towards
Magdalen as if it were a bill demanding instant payment. These little
amenities were a new departure on Bessie's par