ch her progress up the staircase, could note the grace of the
slim white form. "Her nose is red!" chanted the inner voice. "Her nose
is red!" Amongst a medley of disagreeable reflections the thought
appeared to stand out in solitary comfort. It was hardly more than a
week since Grizel had arrived, eight days to be exact, yet to Katrine
standing alone in the dark old room, it appeared that the whole
structure of life had in that time undergone a radical change. It was
not a change which could be registered in _facts_; the days had been
spent in ordinary happenings, tea parties in neighbouring gardens,
drives through the country lanes, small dinner parties, a day on the
river. There was no single incident on which she could lay a finger and
declare that here or there stood the dividing mark between past and
present. The change was in the air; impalpable yet real; Katrine's
sensitive nature felt it in every fibre, inhaled it with every breath.
Behind the peaceful, smiling exterior she divined a smouldering passion.
The atmosphere was flecked with fire; it flamed beneath the most
trivial words, the most trivial deeds. From an ice-bound solitude she
looked on, understanding with a keenness of vision, as new as it was
bitter. During the last days her mind had been incessantly occupied
reviewing the past, searching it in the light of the present. Juliet,
Grizel, and herself had been schoolmates at a French boarding-school.
Grizel had accompanied her on a short visit to the married couple in the
autumn after their marriage. That was the first time that Martin had
seen her, and even in the midst of his bridegroom's joy, he had been
attracted, impressed. Then came two long, black years, at the end of
which, taking her courage in both hands, she had enquired if Martin
would object if Grizel came down for a few days. The mysterious
storehouse of the brain had registered the moment, so that she could
still see her brother's face before her, as he lifted it from his book--
the young, drawn face, with the haggard eyes. Something approaching a
light of interest dawned in the wan depths.

"Grizel Dundas?" he queried slowly; and after a pause. "Certainly! Why
not? I'd like to see her!"

So Grizel had come. Memory again registered the fact that it was in
response to one of her sallies that Martin had laughed for the first
time: an honest, wholesome laugh. She had come again the next year, and
had been warmly welcomed.