tained from questioning.
Alvina was always speaking of the doctors: Doctor Young and Doctor
Headley and Doctor James. She spoke of theatres and music-halls with
these young men, and the jolly good time she had with them. And her
blue-grey eyes seemed to have become harder and greyer, lighter
somehow. In her wistfulness and her tender pathos, Alvina's eyes
would deepen their blue, so beautiful. And now, in her floridity,
they were bright and arch and light-grey. The deep, tender, flowery
blue was gone for ever. They were luminous and crystalline, like the
eyes of a changeling.

Miss Frost shuddered, and abstained from question. She wanted, she
_needed_ to ask of her charge: "Alvina, have you betrayed yourself
with any of these young men?" But coldly her heart abstained from
asking--or even from seriously thinking. She left the matter
untouched for the moment. She was already too much shocked.

Certainly Alvina represented the young doctors as very nice, but
rather fast young fellows. "My word, you have to have your wits
about you with them!" Imagine such a speech from a girl tenderly
nurtured: a speech uttered in her own home, and accompanied by a
florid laugh, which would lead a chaste, generous woman like Miss
Frost to imagine--well, she merely abstained from imagining
anything. She had that strength of mind. She never for one moment
attempted to answer the question to herself, as to whether Alvina
had betrayed herself with any of these young doctors, or not. The
question remained stated, but completely unanswered--coldly awaiting
its answer. Only when Miss Frost kissed Alvina good-bye at the
station, tears came to her eyes, and she said hurriedly, in a low
voice:

"Remember we are all praying for you, dear!"

"No, don't do that!" cried Alvina involuntarily, without knowing
what she said.

And then the train moved out, and she saw her darling standing there
on the station, the pale, well-modelled face looking out from behind
the gold-rimmed spectacles, wistfully, the strong, rather stout
figure standing very still and unchangeable, under its coat and
skirt of dark purple, the white hair glistening under the folded
dark hat. Alvina threw herself down on the seat of her carriage. She
loved her darling. She would love her through eternity. She knew she
was right--amply and beautifully right, her darling, her beloved
Miss Frost. Eternally and gloriously right.

And yet--and yet--it was a right which was fulfilled.