Arthur's eyes...."

Mrs. Payne left her.

XX

Much to the disgust of Hollis, who was in the habit of making the most
of his Sundays, Gabrielle left Overton by the early morning train while
Arthur slept undisturbed after his night of wonder, and Mrs. Payne rose
anxiously to face the certain embarrassments and the possible
bitterness of her victory. She had not slept at all, for though she
never for one moment dreamed of going back on the decision which her
conscience, amongst other things, had dictated, she was still in doubt
as to whether she had won her son or lost him for ever. She almost
regretted the burst of generosity in which she had refused to read
Gabrielle's letter of renunciation. For all she knew the wording might
be provocative and calculated to wreck her plans at the last moment.
The letter lay sealed upon her dressing-table. It speaks well for her
sense of honour in a bargain that this pathetic document remained
unopened. Meanwhile she only prayed that the hours might pass and her
fate be revealed. She could only rack her brains imagining some means
by which the severity of the blow might be tempered for Arthur.

Next morning he came down ten minutes late for breakfast. He missed
Gabrielle at once.

"Where's Mrs. Considine?" he said. "I called at her door as I came
down, but I don't think she's there."

"No," said Mrs. Payne. "She had to go back to Lapton by the first
train. An urgent call of some kind."

"A telegram? The old man isn't ill, is he?"

"She left a letter for you," said Mrs. Payne, handing him Gabrielle's
envelope.

"What a rotten shame," he said as he took it. "It's a splendid morning
for a ride. I hope it's not serious."

He opened the letter and read it. What Gabrielle had written Mrs.
Payne never knew, for even in later years he did not tell her. She had
expected a terrible and passionate outburst and prepared herself to
meet it with argument and consolation, but no outburst came. She saw
him go very red and then white. Then he steadied himself and said in a
curious voice: "Mother ... if you'll excuse me, I must go out."

She put out her hand to him but he pushed back his chair and went
quickly through the French window of the dining-room, into the garden.
She wanted to follow him, for she feared that on the impulse of the
moment he might do something terrible, but controlled herself in time.

She stood on the terrace, impotent, watching him as he cr