ger the mode, had seen the fragile trifles cemented together again,
to be almost as good as new. When he was gone he was forgot quickly
and, indeed, but talked about because her ladyship of Dunstanwolde had
last beheld him, and on the afternoon had been entertaining company in
the Panelled Parlour when the lacquey had brought back the undelivered
note with which Jenfry had waited three hours at the lost man's
lodgings in the hope that he would return to them, which he did no
more.

"'Tis a good riddance to all, my lady, wheresoever he be gone," said
Sir Christopher, sitting nursing his stout knee in the blue parlour a
week later (for her ladyship had had a sudden fancy to have the
panelled room made wholly new and decorated before the return of his
Grace from France). "Tis a good riddance to all."

Then he fell to telling stories of the man, of the creditors he had
left in the lurch, having swindled them of their very hearts' blood,
and that every day there was heard of some poor tradesman he had
ruined, till 'twas a shame to hear it told; and there were worse
things--worse things yet!

"By the Lord!" he said, "the ruin one man's life can bring about, the
heartbreak, and the shame! 'Tis enough to make even a sinner as old as
I, repent, to come upon them face to face. Eh, my lady?" looking at her
suddenly, "thou must get back the roses thou hast lost these three days
nursing Mistress Anne, or his Grace will be at odds with us every one."

For Mistress Anne had been ailing, and her sister being anxious and
watching over her had lost some of her glorious bloom, which was indeed
a new thing to see. At this moment the roses had dropped from her
cheeks and she smiled strangely.

"They will return," she said, "when his Grace does."

She asked questions of the stories Sir Christopher had told and showed
anxiousness concerning the poor people who had been so hardly treated.

"I have often thought," she said, "that so rich a woman as I should set
herself some task of good deeds to do. 'Twould be a good work to take
in hand the undoing of the wrongs a man who is lost has left behind
him. Why should not I, Clo Wildairs, take in hand the undoing of this
man's?" And she rose up suddenly and stood before him, straight and
tall, the colour coming out on her cheeks as if life flooded back
there.

"Thou!" he cried, gazing at her in loving wonder. "Why shouldst _thou_,
Clo?" None among them had ever understood her and her moods,