e could have played it so low down as to continue her intrigue
with that fellow under my roof. Well, I was a fool. But I did not think
much about Florence at that date. My mind was occupied with what was
happening at Branshaw. I had got it into my head that the telegrams had
something to do with Nancy. It struck me that she might have shown signs
of forming an attachment for some undesirable fellow and that Leonora
wanted me to come back and marry her out of harm's way. That was what
was pretty firmly in my mind. And it remained in my mind for nearly ten
days after my arrival at that beautiful old place. Neither Edward nor
Leonora made any motion to talk to me about anything other than the
weather and the crops. Yet, although there were several young fellows
about, I could not see that any one in particular was distinguished by
the girl's preference. She certainly appeared illish and nervous, except
when she woke up to talk gay nonsense to me. Oh, the pretty thing that
she was....

I imagined that what must have happened was that the undesirable young
man had been forbidden the place and that Nancy was fretting a little.
What had happened was just Hell. Leonora had spoken to Nancy; Nancy had
spoken to Edward; Edward had spoken to Leonora--and they had talked and
talked. And talked. You have to imagine horrible pictures of gloom and
half lights, and emotions running through silent nights--through whole
nights. You have to imagine my beautiful Nancy appearing suddenly to
Edward, rising up at the foot of his bed, with her long hair falling,
like a split cone of shadow, in the glimmer of a night-light that burned
beside him. You have to imagine her, a silent, a no doubt agonized
figure, like a spectre, suddenly offering herself to him--to save his
reason! And you have to imagine his frantic refusal--and talk. And talk!
My God!

And yet, to me, living in the house, enveloped with the charm of the
quiet and ordered living, with the silent, skilled servants whose mere
laying out of my dress clothes was like a caress--to me who was hourly
with them they appeared like tender, ordered and devoted people,
smiling, absenting themselves at the proper intervals; driving me to
meets--just good people! How the devil--how the devil do they do it?

At dinner one evening Leonora said--she had just opened a telegram:

"Nancy will be going to India, tomorrow, to be with her father."

No one spoke. Nancy looked at her plate; Edward went