exhaustion conquered the tortured spirit which could find neither rest
nor comfort, and at last she slept.

CHAPTER XII

THE DOUBLED BARRIER

Except for one of Trenby's frequent telephone calls, enquiring as to
Nan's progress, Saturday passed uneventfully enough until the evening.
Then, through the clear summer dusk Kitty discerned the Mallow car
returning from the station whither it had been sent to meet Ralph's
train.

Hurrying down the drive, she saw Ralph lean forward and speak to the
chauffeur who slowed down to a standstill, while he himself sprang out
and came eagerly to her side.

"You angelic woman!" he exclaimed fervently. "How did you manage it?
Will she--will she really--"

"I think she will," answered Kitty, smiling. "So you needn't worry.
But I'm not the _dea ex machina_ to whom you owe the 'happy ending.'
Nan managed it--in some incomprehensible way of her own."

"Then blessed be Nan!" said Ralph piously, as he opened the door of the
car for her to enter. Two minutes' further driving brought them to the
house.

Following his hostess's instructions, Ralph remained outside, and as
Kitty entered the great hall, alone, a white-clad figure suddenly made
as though to escape by a further door.

"Come back, Penny," called Kitty, a hint of kindly mischief in her
voice. "You'll just get half an hour to yourselves before the
dressing-bell rings. Afterwards we shall expect to see you both,
clothed and in your right minds, at dinner."

The still look of happiness that had dwelt all day in Penelope's eyes
woke suddenly into radiance, just as you may watch the calm surface of
the sea, when the tide is at its full, break into a hundred sparkling
ripples at the vivifying touch of a wandering breeze.

She turned back hesitatingly, looking all at once absurdly young and a
little frightened--this tall and stately Penelope--while a faint
blush-rose colour ran swiftly up beneath the pallor of her skin, and
her eyes--those nice, humorous brown eyes of hers that always looked
the world so kindly and honestly in the face--held the troubled shyness
of a little child.

Kitty laid a gentle hand on her arm.

"Run along, my chicken," she said, suddenly feeling a thousand years
old as she saw Penelope standing, virginal and sweet, at the threshold
of the gate through which she herself had passed with happy footsteps
years ago--that gate which opens to the wondering fingers of girlhood,
laid so tremulously u