those of his friends, but,
this afternoon, Lady Adela did appear to him a little more human than
before. He was suddenly sorry for her.

"Rachel'll be all right," he assured her. "Wait a bit. By the way, I met
that little feller Brun yesterday--said he was comin' on Thursday. He's
wild about your mother's picture----"

"Yes--we saw him at the gallery this afternoon. Rachel and I were
there."

"Rachel! What did she think of it?"

"Seemed to take no interest in it at all. We were there only a few
minutes----"

Silence fell between them, a silence filled with meaning. Lady Adela had
intended to speak about Breton--now, suddenly, she could say nothing.
The mention of the picture-gallery had brought back all her earlier
discomfort--she saw the picture, the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the
white pinched cheeks. Then she saw the great bedroom upstairs, the high
white bed, the little shrivelled figure.

Had Rachel pointed this contrast? Had Breton? Was it something that
Roddy had discovered already, something that had made his courage so
easy for him? What, what was going to be done with her if she were no
longer afraid? Why, on that terror, on that trembling service, were
built the foundations of all her life. How could she face that picture
that the world had of a splendid, historic, dominating figure if she
herself saw only a sick, miserable old woman tumbling to pieces, passing
to decay?

The minutes had passed, and she had said nothing. Roddy must be
wondering at her silence. To her relief Lady Carloes came towards her to
say good-bye.

Roddy's eyes were puzzled. For what had she carried him off if she had
nothing to say to him?

III

When they were all gone she went up to her mother. Before the door she
paused. The house was very still, and her heart was furiously beating.

She opened the door, and at the sight of the room was instantly
reassured.

Dorchester met her. "Her Grace went to bed early to-night. But she will
see you, my lady."

Lady Adela stepped softly to the farther door. All was well. About her,
around her, within her, was that same splendid terror, that same
knowledge that she was approaching some great presence that had been
with her all her life----

As she opened the bedroom door and saw the high white bed she knew that
her mother was more magnificent, more wonderful than any painted picture
could possibly make her.

CHAPTER IV

THE POOL

I

On that same afternoon in