her
husband's swans.

And he longed to see her again. She had said that she hoped he would come
again to St. Joseph's and to her house, but he knew well that any such
desire in her had arisen from her wounded pride in her husband. She
wished Malling to know what the rector could really do. When she thought
that the rector had recovered his former powers, his hold upon the minds
of men, then she would invite Malling to return to St. Joseph's, but not
before.

And when would that moment come?

It might not come for weeks, for months. It might never come. Malling did
not mean to await it. Nevertheless he did not want to do anything likely
to surprise Lady Sophia, to lead her to think that he had any special
object in view in furthering his acquaintance with her.

While he was casting about in his mind what course to take, chance
favored him.

Four days later, when he was strolling round the rooms in Burlington
House, he saw not far in front of him the tall and restless figure of
a woman. She was alone. For some time Malling did not recognize her.
She did not turn sufficiently for him to see her face, and her almost
feverish movements, though they attracted and fixed his attention, did
not strike him as familiar. His thought of her, as he slowly followed
in the direction she was taking, was, "What a difficult woman that would
be to live with!" For the hands were never still; the gait was uneasy;
nervousness, almost a sort of pitiful irritation, seemed expressed by her
every movement.

In the big room this woman paused before the picture of the year, which
happened to be a very bad one, and Malling, coming up, at last recognized
her as Lady Sophia Harding.

He took off his hat. She seemed startled, but greeted him pleasantly, and
entered into a discussion of the demerits which fascinate the crowd.

"You prefer seeing pictures alone, perhaps?" said Malling, presently.

"Indeed I don't," she answered. "I was coming to-day with my husband. We
drove up together. But at the last moment he thought he remembered
something,--some appointment with Mr. Chichester,--and left me."

There were irony and bitterness in her voice.

"He said he'd come back and meet me in the tea-room presently," she
added.

"Shall we go there and wait for him?" asked Malling.

"But I'm afraid I'm taking up your time."

"I have no engagements this afternoon. I shall enjoy a quiet talk with
you."

"It's very good of you."

They descended,