l never stay much in London--will you,
Theodora?"

"I have always to do what Josiah wishes, you know; he rather likes it,
and means us to come back after Whitsuntide, I think."

Hector seemed to have lost the power of looking ahead. Whitsuntide, and
to be with her in the country for that time, appeared to him the
boundary of his outlook.

What would happen after Whitsuntide? Who could say?

He longed to tell her how his thoughts were forever going back to the
day at Versailles, and the peace and beauty of those woods--how all
seemed here as though something were dragging him down to the
commonplace, away out of their exalted dream, to a dull earth. But he
dared not--he must keep to subjects less moving. So there was silence
for some moments.

Theodora, since coming to London, had begun to understand it was
possible for beautiful Englishmen to be husbands now and then, and that
the term is not necessarily synonymous with "bore" and "duty"--as she
had always thought it from her meagre experience.

She could not help picturing what a position of exquisite happiness some
nice girl might have--some day--as Hector's wife. And she looked out of
the window, and her eyes were sad. While the vision which floated to him
at the same moment was of her at his side at Bracondale, and the
delicious joy of possessing for their own some gay and merry babies like
Fordy and his little brother and sister. And each saw a wistful longing
in the other's eyes, and they talked quickly of banal things.

XXII

The Crow stayed on after all the other guests had left. He knew his
hostess wished to talk to him.

It had begun to pour with rain, and the dripping streets held out no
inducement to them to go out.

They pulled up their two comfortable arm-chairs to the sparkling wood
fire, and then Colonel Lowerby said:

"You look sad, Queen Anne. Tell me about it."

"Yes, I am sad," said Anne. "The position is so hopeless. Hector loves
her--loves her really--and I do not wonder at it; and she seems just
everything that one could wish for him. A thousand times above Morella
in intellect and understanding. All the things Hector and I like she
sees at once. No need of explaining to her, as one has to to mother and
Morella always."

"Yes," said the Crow. He did not argue with her as usual.

"It seems so fearful to think of her forever bound to that dreadful old
grocer, whom she treats with so much deference and gentleness. The whole