rtable fight that life so often seemed to be, and to
let loose the Molly who could toil and go sleepless and be happy, if she
could achieve any diminution of bodily pain in man or woman, child or
beast?

The dawn lightened; one or two rabbits stirred in the bracken in the
near park--this was peace. Then Molly smiled tenderly at the dawn. There
might come another solution in which life would be unselfish without
such acute sacrifice, and in which evil possibilities would be starved
for lack of temptation. And all that was good would grow in the
sunshine.

And the sleeping scullerymaid smiled also.

CHAPTER XIII

SIR DAVID'S MEMORY

Lady Rose Bright was faintly disturbed on Tuesday morning, and came into
Lady Groombridge's sitting-room after Mrs. Delaport Green and Molly had
left the castle too preoccupied to notice the tall figure of Grosse in a
far window.

This room had happily escaped all Georgian gorgeousness of decoration,
and the backs of the books, a fine eighteenth-century collection, stood
flush to the walls. The long room was all white except for the books,
the flowered chintz covers, some fine bronze statuettes, and a few bowls
of roses.

Lady Rose moved mechanically towards the empty fire-place.

It was one thing to try not to dislike Miss Dexter, and to see her in a
haze of Christian love; it was another to realise that, while she
herself had slept most comfortably, Molly had not been to bed at all
because the little kitchenmaid was in pain. Humility and appreciation
were rising in Rose's mind, as half absently she gently raised a vase
from the chimney-piece, and, turning to the light to examine its mark,
saw Sir Edmund looking at her from his distant window.

A little, quite a little, flush came into her cheeks; not much deeper
than the soft, healthy colour usual to them. She examined the china with
more attention.

The tall figure moved slowly, lazily, down the room towards her, holding
the _Times_ in one hand.

"It's not Oriental," he said, "it's Lowestoft."

"Ah!" said Rose absently. She felt the eyes whose sadness had been
apparent even to Mrs. Delaport Green looking her over with a quick
scrutiny.

"Why, in your general scheme of benevolence, have you not thought it
fit, during the last few days, to give me the chance of talking to you
alone?" The tone was full of exasperation, but ironical too, as if he
were faintly amused at himself for being exasperated.

"I don't know. H