ther, instead of drawing them together, had in various and
subtle ways produced a secret estrangement. To neither the older nor the
younger woman could the familiar metaphor have been applied which
compares the effects of sorrow or sympathy on fine character to the
bruising of fragrant herbs. Ferrier's death, sorely and bitterly
lamented though it was, had not made Lady Lucy more lovable. Oliver's
misfortune had not--toward Lady Lucy, at any rate--liberated in Alicia
those hidden tendernesses that may sometimes transmute and glorify
natures apparently careless or stubborn, brought eye to eye with pain.
Lady Lucy also resented her too long exclusion from Alicia's confidence.
Like all the rest of the world, she believed there was an understanding
between Oliver and Alicia. Of course, there were reasons for not making
anything of the sort public at present. But a mother, she thought, ought
to have been told.

"Does Mr. Nixon recommend that Oliver should go abroad for the winter?"
asked Alicia, after a pause. She was sitting on the arm of a chair, her
slender feet hanging, and the combination of her blue linen dress with
the fiery gold of her hair reminded Lady Lucy of the evening in the
Eaton Square drawing-room, when she had first entertained the idea that
Alicia and Oliver might marry. Oliver, standing erect in front of the
fire looking down upon Alicia in her blue tulle--his young vigor and
distinction--the carriage of his handsome head--was she never to see
that sight again--never? Her heart fluttered and sank; the prison of
life contracted round her.

She answered, rather shortly.

"He made no plan of the kind. Travelling, in fact, is absolutely
forbidden for the present."

"Poor Oliver!" said Alicia, gently, her eyes on the ground. "How
_horrid_ it is that I have to go away!"

"You! When?" Lady Lucy turned sharply to look at the speaker.

"Oh! not till Saturday," said Alicia, hastily; "and of course I shall
come back again--if you want me." She looked up with a smile.

"Oliver will certainly want you; I don't know whom he
could--possibly--want--so much." Lady Lucy spoke the words with
slow emphasis.

"Dear old boy!--I know," murmured Alicia. "I needn't be long away."

"Why must you go at all? I am sure the Treshams--Lady Evelyn--would
understand--"

"Oh, I promised so faithfully!" pleaded Alicia, joining her hands. "And
then, you know, I should be able to bring all sorts of gossip back to
Oliver to amuse