sion of
feeling took place.

Sue had tottered from the dining-room without so much as a glance
towards herself. That was nothing. She understood, and did not in the
least resent it--since any recognition of her protecting agency would
have openly acknowledged what the hapless spinster might still hope was
only vaguely guessed at; but it was the thing itself, the incredible,
incomprehensible thing which staggered, and, it must be owned, in a
sense revolted her.

She flew out of doors. There only, out of sight and hearing, could her
bewildered senses realise what had passed, and grasp its full
significance. There only dared she give way to the spasms of passionate
amazement and incredulity which found vent in reiterated ejaculations of
Sue's name.

Sue? _Sue?_ SUE? She found herself crying it over and over again, and
each time with a fresh intonation.

Sue? It was impossible--it was unnatural--it was horrible. Sue? She
stamped her foot, and sent a pebble flying down the path.

Sue--poor old Sue--dear old Sue--"Old" Sue, whichever way you took it,
how could she, how _could_ she?

In Leo's eyes, Sue, verging on middle age, had never been young;
earliest reminiscences pictured her the same composed and tranquil
creature, with the same detachment from life as regarded herself, the
same contented absorption in the concerns of others, that was present
now to the eyes of all.

No one ever thought of Sue in connection with love or matrimony; not
even in years gone by; not even when Leo was a child.

True, she had her own niche in the family and household, and it was by
no means an unimportant one--but it was high upon a shelf as regarded
affairs of the heart.

Her dress, her habits, her punctilio in small matters--all that she did
or said marked her the typical old maid, and had done so for years out
of mind--so that the present revelation was worse than shocking, it was
cruel.

For the best part of an hour the storm raged. She found herself
repeating her father's words "preposterous!"--"outrageous!"--and
endorsing them with throbs of scorn and anger. The sister she loved, the
woman she venerated was lowered in her eyes. She was pained, as well as
shocked....

But presently there ensued a change. After all, what had poor Sue done?
Certainly she had at no time given the faintest outward indication of
her folly, till powerless to help herself; she had endured what must
have been a painful ordeal beforehand with fort