of the outer
world, felt it more and more. She was sweet, but was she not too
skilful? She was strong, but was not her strength unscrupulous? As she
listened to her, Amabel remembered old wonders, old glimpses of motives
that stole forth reconnoitring and then retreated at the hint of rebuff,
graceful and unconfused.

There were motives now, behind that smile, that softness; motives behind
the flattery of Augustine, the blandness towards Sir Hugh, the visit to
herself. Some of the motives were, perhaps, all kindness: Lady Elliston
had always been kind; she had always been a binder of wounds, a
dispenser of punctual sunlight; she was one of the world's powerfully
benignant great ladies; committees clustered round her; her words of
assured wisdom sustained and guided ecclesiastical and political
organisations; one must be benignant, in an altruistic modern world, if
one wanted to rule. It was not a cynical nun who gazed; Lady Elliston
was kind and Lady Elliston loved power; simply, without a sense of
blame, Amabel drew her conclusions.

There were now lapses in Lady Elliston's fluency. Her eyes rested
contemplatively on Amabel; it was evident that she wanted to see Amabel
alone. This motive was so natural a one that, although Sir Hugh seemed
determined, at the risk of losing his train, to stay till the last
minute, he, too, felt, at last, its pressure.

His wife saw him go with a sense of closing mists. Augustine, now more
considerate, followed him. She was left facing her guest.

Only Lady Elliston could have kept the moment from being openly painful
and even Lady Elliston could not pretend to find it an easy one; but she
did not err on the side of too much tact. It was so sweetly, so gravely
that her eyes rested for a long moment of silence on her old friend, so
quietly that they turned away from her rising flush, that Amabel felt
old gratitudes mingling with old distrusts.

"What a sad room this is," said Lady Elliston, looking about it. "Is it
just as you found it, Amabel?"

"Yes, almost. I have taken away some things."

"I wish you would take them all away and put in new ones. It might be
made into a very nice room; the panelling is good. What it needs is
Jacobean furniture, fine old hangings, and some bits of glass and
porcelain here and there."

"I suppose so." Amabel's eyes followed Lady Elliston's. "I never thought
of changing anything."

Lady Elliston's eyes turned on hers again. "No: I suppose not,"