ing cakes, Burrows, the parlourmaid, opened the
door, and announced in her usual expressionless voice--

"If you please, marm, a messenger has come to request Miss Greaves to
return home at once. Mr Greaves has had a sudden stroke--"

We all stood up quickly, all save poor Vere, who has to be still
whatever happens. Rachel turned very white, and Will went up to her,
and took her hand in his. He looked at me, and I guessed what he meant,
and said quickly--

"The motor-car! It shall come round at once, and you will be home in
five minutes. I'll go round to the stables!"

I rushed off, thankful to be able to help, and to put off thinking as
long as possible, but even as I ran the thought flew through my head. A
stroke! That was serious--very serious in Mr Greaves's weakened
condition. I could tell from Burrows' manner that the message had been
urgent. Perhaps even now the end of the long suffering _was_ at hand--
the end of something else, too; of what had seemed an hour ago a
practically hopeless engagement!

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

_August 12th._
It is a long time since I opened this diary, for I have grown out of the
habit of writing, and it is difficult to get into it again.

Mr Greaves died the very night of his seizure, and immediately after
his funeral Mrs Greaves collapsed and has been an invalid ever since.
It seemed as if she had kept up to the very limit of her endurance, for
as soon as the strain was over her nerves gave way in a rush, and
instead of the gentle, self-controlled creature which she has been all
her life, she is now just a bundle of fancies, tears and repinings. It
is hard on Rachel, but she bears it like an angel, and is always patient
and amiable. I wondered at first if she and Will would marry soon and
take Mrs Greaves to live with them; I asked Rachel about it one day
when we were having a quiet chat, and she answered quite openly:

"Will wished it. He thought he could help me to cheer mother, but she
won't hear of it for the next twelve months at least, and, of course, I
must do as she prefers. We have waited so long that another year cannot
make much difference."

I wondered if Will were of the same opinion, but did not dare to ask
him. As I said before, he avoids me nowadays and does not seem to care
to talk to me alone. Perhaps it is better so, but I can't help being
sorry. I have wondered sometimes if the