t going to act
yourself."

"No, but I'm no hand at waiting."

That was true, and as usual the days of suspense told heavily on
Aymer. Christopher's return was an immense relief. He had had a heavy
spell of work and travelling, and allowed himself a few days' holiday.
It happened that Patricia was also at Marden. She spent so large a
percentage of her time with Constantia now that her presence in the
house that had been her home more resembled a visit than Christopher's
comings and goings. No one had mentioned the fact that she was there
to him, and he found her in the drawing-room before dinner kneeling by
the fire and coaxing it into a cheery blaze.

"You are a regular truant, Patricia," he complained after their
greeting.

"Constantia maintains I am at school with her and calls me truant when
I run down here for a few days."

"Are you at school? What does she teach you?"

"Subjects too deep for mere man," she retorted lightly. She continued
to kneel with her back to him and the light touched her wonderful
hair, that still seemed too heavy a crown for the proud little head.
It was like molten gold. Christopher felt a new heartache for the days
when he could touch it without fear in the blind bravery of boyhood.
He wanted to see her face which she so persistently turned from him.

"I am not sure it is a suitable school for you."

"Since when have you become responsible for my education, sir? Would
you prefer my going to school with Charlotte? You are confounding me
with Patrimondi. You will end by rolling me out flat on a high-road
one day."

She was talking arrant nonsense in self-defence, for every fibre of
her being was quivering at his presence. The old hushed cry awoke in
her heart "Christopher and Love--Love and Christopher." If she looked
at him he must see it, her eyes must needs betray the pitiful whisper
but for the clamour of foolish words. Where was Renata? Why were they
all so late to-night of all nights? Yet she had hurried her
dressing--chosen her gown even, on the chance of this interview that
outmatched her schooled frivolity. The need to see her face and her
eyes again pressed on the man--became imperative--as something of
great moment, strangely difficult to achieve.

At last he abruptly spoke her name.

"Patricia."

She involuntarily turned to him and found what had appeared so hard
was quite easy, for she discerned some unusual trouble in his mind,
and was woman enough for the mothe