you write to him, I will come," she said, briefly, and then Lady
Kynaston came up to her and kissed her, taking her hands within her own,
and drawing her to her with motherly tenderness. "My dear, everybody will
think well of you for this."

And the words ran so nearly in the current of her own bitter thoughts
that Vera laughed, shortly and disdainfully, a low laugh of scorn at the
world, whose mandates she was prepared to obey, even though she despised
herself for doing so.

"You will be glad by-and-by that you were so sensible and so reasonable,"
said Lady Kynaston.

"Yes--I dare say I shall be glad by-and-by; and now I am going, dear Lady
Kynaston; I have a hansom waiting all this time, and Mrs. Hazeldine will
be wondering what has become of me."

At this moment they both heard the sound of a carriage driving up to the
door.

"It must be some visitors," said Lady Kynaston; "wait a minute, or you
will meet them in the hall. Oh, stay, go through this door into the
dining-room, and you can get through the dining-room window by the garden
round to the front of the house; I dare say you would rather not meet
anybody--you might know them."

"Thank you--yes, I should much prefer to get away quickly and quietly--I
will go through the dining-room; do not come with me, I can easily find
my way."

She gathered up her gloves and her veil and opened the door which
communicated between the morning-room and the dining-room. She heard the
chatter of women's voices and the fluttering of women's garments in the
hall; it seemed as though they were about to be ushered into the room she
was leaving.

She did not want to be seen; besides, she wanted to get away quickly and
return to London. She closed the morning-room door behind her, and took a
couple of steps across the dining-room towards the windows.

Then she stopped suddenly short; Maurice sat before her at the table. He
lifted his eyes and looked at her; he did not seem surprised to see her,
but there was a whole world of grief and despair in his face. It was as
though he had lived through half a lifetime since she had last seen him.

Pride, anger, wounded affection, all died away within her--only the woman
was left, the woman who loved him. Little by little she saw him only
through the blinding mist of her own tears.

Not one single word was spoken between them. What was there that they
could say to each other? Then suddenly she turned away, and went swiftly
back int