e would have responded in an instant,
and she was surprised that her sister seemed to hesitate. Fleda's
hesitation, which lasted but an hour, was expressed in that young lady's
own mind by the reflection that in obeying her friend's summons she
shouldn't know what she should be "in for." Her friend's summons,
however, was but another name for her friend's appeal; and Mrs. Gereth's
bounty had laid her under obligations more sensible than any reluctance.
In the event--that is at the end of her hour--she testified to her
gratitude by taking the train and to her mistrust by leaving her
luggage. She went as if she had gone up for the day. In the train,
however, she had another thoughtful hour, during which it was her
mistrust that mainly deepened. She felt as if for ten days she had sat
in darkness, looking to the east for a dawn that had not yet glimmered.
Her mind had lately been less occupied with Mrs. Gereth; it had been so
exceptionally occupied with Mona. If the sequel was to justify Owen's
prevision of Mrs. Brigstock's action upon her daughter, this action was
at the end of a week as much a mystery as ever. The stillness, all
round, had been exactly what Fleda desired, but it gave her for the time
a deep sense of failure, the sense of a sudden drop from a height at
which she had all things beneath her. She had nothing beneath her now;
she herself was at the bottom of the heap. No sign had reached her from
Owen--poor Owen, who had clearly no news to give about his precious
letter from Waterbath. If Mrs. Brigstock had hurried back to obtain that
this letter should be written, Mrs. Brigstock might then have spared
herself so great an inconvenience. Owen had been silent for the best of
all reasons--the reason that he had had nothing in life to say. If the
letter had not been written he would simply have had to introduce some
large qualification into his account of his freedom. He had left his
young friend under her refusal to listen to him until he should be able,
on the contrary, to extend that picture; and his present submission was
all in keeping with the rigid honesty that his young friend had
prescribed.

It was this that formed the element through which Mona loomed large;
Fleda had enough imagination, a fine enough feeling for life, to be
impressed with such an image of successful immobility. The massive
maiden at Waterbath _was_ successful from the moment she could entertain
her resentments as if they had been poor