ient friendship, and on the part
he had taken in forwarding the marriage up in Borva. He had always,
moreover, been somewhat too much of the schoolmaster, with his severe
judgments, his sententious fashion of criticising and warning people,
and his readiness to prove the whole world wrong in order to show
himself to be right. All these and many other things Lavender meant
to say to Sheila so soon as she had protested against his forbidding
Ingram to come any more to the house. But there was no protest. Sheila
did not even seem surprised. She went back to her seat by the window,
folded up Duncan's letter and put it in her pocket; and then she
turned to look at the sea.

Lavender regarded her for a moment, apparently doubting whether he
should himself prosecute the subject: then he turned and left the
room.

Sheila did not cry or otherwise seek to compassionate and console
herself. Her husband had told her to do a certain thing, and she
would do it. Perhaps she had been imprudent in having confided in Mr.
Ingram, and if so, it was right that she should be punished. But the
regret and pain that lay deep in her heart were that Ingram should
have suffered through her, and that she had no opportunity of telling
him that, though they might not see each other, she would never
forget her friendship for him, or cease to be grateful to him for his
unceasing and generous kindness to her.

Next morning Lavender was summoned to London by a telegram which
announced that his aunt was seriously ill. He and Sheila got ready at
once, left by a forenoon train, had some brief luncheon at home, and
then went down to see the old lady in Kensington Gore. During their
journey Lavender had been rather more courteous and kindly toward
Sheila than was his wont. Was he pleased that she had so readily
obeyed him in this matter of giving up about the only friend she had
in London? or was he moved by some visitation of compunction? Sheila
tried to show that she was grateful for his kindness, but there was
that between them which could not be removed by chance phrases or
attentions.

Mrs. Lavender was in her own room. Paterson brought word that she
wanted to see Sheila first and alone; so Lavender sat down in the
gloomy drawing-room by the window, and watched the people riding and
driving past, and the sunshine on the dusty green trees in the Park.

"Is Frank Lavender below?" said the thin old woman, who was propped
up in bed, with some scarlet