ins, when only like a jangling chain upon which
everything hung, ran her hatred of her granddaughter.

On such a day if Rachel had come to her and she had been alone with her,
she would have wished the dragons to devour her, would have urged the
silver Indian snake on the little black table to have strangled her. On
such a day she would sit hour after hour and wonder what she could do to
her granddaughter....

It was upon one of her clear days that it flashed upon her that she
would go and see Roddy. Beyond the actual excitement of visiting Roddy
there was the determination to show the world what she still could do.
Doubtless they were saying out there that she was bedridden now, ill,
helpless, dying even ... well, she would show them.

For thirty years she had not been outside her door--now, because she
wished it, she would go.

She said nothing to Adela about this--she saw Adela now as seldom as
possible. She told John on the morning of the day itself--on that same
morning she told Christopher.

She told him sitting in her chair, with her cheeks painted and her white
fingers covered with rings--

"I'm going to pay a visit--this afternoon, Christopher." She had
expected opposition--she was a little disappointed when he said--

"Yes, so I've already heard this morning. I think it's an excellent
thing--the day's warm. You'll have to be carried downstairs, you
know----"

"You and Norris can do that. I won't have anyone else."

"Very well, I shall have to come with you----"

"Yes--You can talk to my granddaughter."

"It's thirty years...."

"Yes--The last time was Old Judy Bonnings's reception. They're all
dead--all of 'em--D'you remember, Dorchester?"

"Yes--Your Grace--Very well."

Dorchester expressed no surprise--Anything was better than that silence
of the last months. Moreover she had trusted Christopher. She had often
been amazed at the knowledge that he showed of her mistress's
temperament, would allow her temper, her imperious self-will indulgence
one day and on another would control them absolutely. He knew what he
was doing....

The picture that she presented, however, when helped downstairs by the
pontifical Norris and Christopher! the house, with the decorous
watchfulness of some large, solemn, and immensely authoritative
policeman, surveying her descent, her own little bird-like face, showing
nothing but a fine assumption of her splendid appearance before the
public, after thirty years, sh