her that was hidden from the gaze of the world.

A fact in connection with their intimacy, which set it apart from the
other friendships of Mrs. Mansfield, was this--Charmian was not included
in it.

This exclusion was not owing to any desire of the mother. She was
incapable of shutting any door, beyond which she did not stand alone,
against her child. The generosity of her nature was large, warm,
chivalrous, the link between her and Charmian very strong. The girl was
wont to accept her mother's friends with a pretty eagerness. They
spoiled her, because of her charm, and because she was the child of the
house in which they spent some of their happiest hours. Never yet had
there lain on Charmian's life a shadow coming from her mother. But now
she entered a faintly shadowed way, as it seemed deliberately and of her
own will. She tacitly refused to accept the friendship between her
mother and Claude Heath as she had accepted the other friendships.
Gently, subtly, almost mysteriously, she excluded herself from it.

Or was she gently, subtly, almost mysteriously excluded from it by
Claude Heath?

She chose to think so. And there were moments in which he chose to think
that she obstinately declined to accept him as her mother accepted him,
because she disliked him, was perhaps jealous of his intimacy with Mrs.
Mansfield.

All this was below the surface. Charmian seemed friendly with Heath, and
he, generally, at ease with her. But when he was alone with Mrs.
Mansfield he was a different man. At first she thought little of this.
She attributed it to the fact that Heath had a reserved nature and that
she happened to hold a key which could unlock it, or unlock a room or
two of it, leaving, perhaps, many rooms closed. But, being not only a
very intelligent but a delicately sensitive woman, she presently began
to think that there was some secret antagonism between her child and
Heath.

This pained her. She even considered whether she ought not to put an end
to her intimacy with Heath. She had grown to value it. She was incapable
of entering into a sentimental relation with any man. She had loved
deeply, had had her beautiful summer. It had died. The autumn was upon
her. She regretted. Often her heart was by a grave, often it was beyond,
seeking, like a bird with spread wings above dark seas seeking the
golden clime it needs and instinctively knows of. But she did not
repine. And she was able to fill her life, to be strongly