at those words you uttered
to Jane. There are moments in a woman's life that man knows nothing
of; moments bitter and cruel, sweet and merciful, that change her whole
being; moments in which the simple girl becomes a worldly woman; moments
in which the slow procession of her years is never noted--except by
another woman! Moments that change her outlook on the world and her
relations to it--and her husband's relations! Moments when the maid
becomes a wife, the wife a widow, the widow a re-married woman, by a
simple, swift illumination of the fancy. Moments when, wrought upon by
a single word--a look--an emphasis and rising inflection, all logical
sequence is cast away, processes are lost--inductions lead nowhere.
Moments when the inharmonious becomes harmonious, the indiscreet
discreet, the inefficient efficient, and the inevitable evitable. I
mean," she corrected herself hurriedly--"You know what I mean! If you
have not felt it you have read it!"

"I have," he said thoughtfully. "We have both read it in the same novel.
She is a fine writer."

"Ye-e-s." She hesitated with that slight resentment of praise of another
woman so delightful in her sex. "But you have forgotten the Moo Cow!"
and she pointed to where the distracted animal was careering across the
lawn towards the garden.

"You are right," he said, "the incident is not yet closed. Let us pursue
it."

They both pursued it. Discarding the useless lasso, he had recourse to a
few well-aimed epithets. The infuriated animal swerved and made directly
towards a small fountain in the centre of the garden. In attempting to
clear it, it fell directly into the deep cup-like basin and remained
helplessly fixed, with its fore-legs projecting uneasily beyond the rim.

"Let us leave it there," she said, "and forget it--and all that has
gone before. Believe me," she added, with a faint sigh, "it is best. Our
paths diverge from this moment. I go to the summer-house, and you go to
the Hall, where my father is expecting you." He would have detained her
a moment longer, but she glided away and was gone.

Left to himself again, that slight sense of bewilderment which had
clouded his mind for the last hour began to clear away; his singular
encounter with the girls strangely enough affected him less strongly
than his brief and unsatisfactory interview with his uncle. For, after
all, he was his host, and upon him depended his stay at Hawthorn Hall.
The mysterious and slighting all