t shower of mud, which clung to you, however lofty
your attitude of contemptuous indifference might be. And Bertha found
another moment in which to say:

"Constance...."

"Yes?..."

"Mrs. van Eilenburgh ... is a niece...."

"Yes, I know."

"I am sorry ... that you should just have happened to meet her."

Constance once more shrugged her shoulders:

"Why?"

And she looked Bertha full in the face:

"Why?" she repeated. "There are things, Bertha, which I intend to treat
as the past. I don't know if others will always look upon them as the
present. If you wish to be a sister for me, in deed as well as in name,
help me. Do you understand what I mean? I am determined to treat what
happened years ago as the past. I've made up my mind to it, in spite of
the fact that our friends, I believe, take pleasure in still looking
upon the past as the present. It's a great compliment to me, no doubt,
but, alas, I can't accept it: I am fully fifteen years older now; and I
am determined to make those fifteen years count. Do you understand me?"

"I think I understand you, Constance."

"And you don't approve. You also want me never to grow old and never to
bring my fifteen years into account."

"Ssh, Constance! There's some one coming in at the door...."

"Don't be afraid: I've finished. Good-bye, Bertha; and help me, if you
can...."

She pressed her hand. Bertha was on thorns.

As she went out, Constance heard the butler announcing:

"Mr. and Mrs. van den Heuvel Steyn."

She gave a start; she knew the name: friends of De Staffelaer's; Van den
Heuvel Steyn had a post at Court. Suddenly, she saw herself, years ago,
as a young girl, calling on those people with De Staffelaer. She had not
seen them for years, had not heard of them for years.

She passed them and saw that they had become old, very old, those
friends of De Staffelaer's, two very old people. They looked at her too;
and there was fury in their eyes, as though they were both
surprised--that old lady and that old gentleman--to find Mrs. van der
Welcke in any drawing-room which they entered, even though she were a
hundred times the sister of the colonial secretary's wife. Their eyes
crossed like swords; and Constance passed them very haughtily, looking
over their heads and pretending not to recognize them. She shivered in
the hall. It was pouring with rain. The butler called her carriage.

"It will be difficult," she thought, tired out with this one
quarter-of