in the
big world; but perhaps it was a selfish ambition (excusable in a
mother), for the Fates had decreed otherwise, and one must say
'Kismet!' I long to come and see you all. It is impossible for me to
get away to-morrow, but I could come on Saturday. Would that suit
you? It seems like a dream--a very real dream of happiness for Gwen
and for--I suppose I must call him 'Jim.' And I must (though I
shouldn't) congratulate you on so cleverly getting my little treasure
for your brother. I know how dear he is to you.

"Yours affectionately,

"Belinda Scott."

Lady Dashwood laid the letter on her knees and sat thinking, with the
pulses in her body throbbing. A dull flush had come into her cheeks, and
just below her heart was a queer, empty, weak feeling, as if she had had
no food for a long, long while.

She moved at last and stood upon her feet.

"I will not bear it," she said aloud.

Her voice strayed through the empty room. The face of the portrait
stared out remorselessly at her with its cynical smile. All the world
had become cynical and remorseless. Lady Dashwood moved to the door and
went into the corridor. She passed Gwen's room and went to May
Dashwood's. There she knocked on the door. May's voice responded. She
had already begun to dress.

"Aunt Lena!" she exclaimed softly, as Lady Dashwood closed the door
behind her without a word and came forward to the fireplace, "what has
happened?"

Lady Dashwood held towards her a letter. "Read that," she said, and then
she turned to the fire and leaned her elbow on the mantelpiece and
clasped her hot brow in her hands. She did not look at the tall slight
figure with its aureole of auburn hair near her, and the serious sweet
face reading the letter. What she was waiting for was--help--help in her
dire need--help! She wanted May to say, "This can't be, must not be. _I_
can help you"; and yet, as the silence grew, Lady Dashwood knew that
there was no help coming--it was absurd to expect help.

May Dashwood stood quite still and read the letter through. She read it
twice, and yet said nothing.

"Well!" said Lady Dashwood, her voice muffled. As no reply came, she
glanced round. "You have read the letter?" she asked.

"Yes," said May, "I've read it," and she laid the letter on the
mantelpiece. There was a curious movement of her b