hen
yielded to a current of the upper air that swept it straight off to
Poynton and to Waterbath. Not a sound had reached her of any supreme
clash, and Mrs. Gereth had communicated next to nothing; giving out
that, as was easily conceivable, she was too busy, too bitter, and too
tired for vain civilities. All she had written was that she had got the
new place well in hand and that Fleda would be surprised at the way it
was turning out. Everything was even yet upside down; nevertheless, in
the sense of having passed the threshold of Poynton for the last time,
the amputation, as she called it, had been performed. Her leg had come
off--she had now begun to stump along with the lovely wooden substitute;
she would stump for life, and what her young friend was to come and
admire was the beauty of her movement and the noise she made about the
house. The reserve of Poynton and Waterbath had been matched by the
austerity of Fleda's own secret, under the discipline of which she had
repeated to herself a hundred times a day that she rejoiced at having
cares that excluded all thought of it. She had lavished herself, in act,
on Maggie and the curate, and had opposed to her father's selfishness a
sweetness quite ecstatic. The young couple wondered why they had waited
so long, since everything was after all so easy. She had thought of
everything, even to how the "quietness" of the wedding should be
relieved by champagne and her father kept brilliant on a single bottle.
Fleda knew, in short, and liked the knowledge, that for several weeks
she had appeared exemplary in every relation of life.

She had been perfectly prepared to be surprised at Ricks, for Mrs.
Gereth was a wonder-working wizard, with a command, when all was said,
of good material; but the impression in wait for her on the threshold
made her catch her breath and falter. Dusk had fallen when she arrived,
and in the plain square hall, one of the few good features, the glow of
a Venetian lamp just showed, on either wall, the richness of an
admirable tapestry. This instant perception that the place had been
dressed at the expense of Poynton was a shock: it was as if she had
abruptly seen herself in the light of an accomplice. The next moment,
folded in Mrs. Gereth's arms, her eyes were diverted; but she had
already had, in a flash, the vision of the great gaps in the other
house. The two tapestries, not the largest, but those most splendidly
toned by time, had been on the who