occurred.

To the ardent, impulsive nature such composure seemed unnatural, almost
brutal. "How _can_ she?" Grizel asked herself blankly. "How can she?
Oh, Martin, dear, to know your love gone, and to sit down quietly to eat
sandwiches! Chewing.--Chewing! What can it feel like to be made like
that? It's marvellous, it's magnificent, _mais ce n'est pas la femme_!
Poor, poor little Teresa, and my poor, beautiful Cassandra, and poor
Dane Peignton, poor Squire, poor Everybody! God help us all... We're
in a rare muddle! What is to happen next?"

Her breath caught in an involuntary sob, and Teresa put out a protecting
arm. Grizel leant against it, careful still to demand, rather than
offer consolation, and they sat shoulder to shoulder, hand clasped in
hand, while the minutes dragged past. From time to time Grizel rose and
tiptoed across the grass to look at Cassandra's face. Once she breathed
her name, and the blue eyes opened in a recognising glance, but
instantly they closed again, and the whole pose of the figure proclaimed
an extremity of fatigue.

"But it will pass; it will pass!" Grizel whispered to Teresa on her
return. "It was a maddening experience. We were all mad, I think. It
was enough to make us mad. Millions of people go through life, and
never even imagine such a horror. But it was so short... only a few
minutes... it will pass... it will pass!"

"Oh, yes!" said Teresa steadily, "it will pass." The healthy colour had
come back to her cheeks. Beyond a certain hardness in the set of the
lips, the smooth young face showed no sign of the recent conflict.

A quarter of an hour dragged by; half an hour. Cassandra's breath came
in deep, steady respirations, her hands lay slack by her side, she slept
the sleep of exhaustion, and the two women sat silently watching her
from afar. Three-quarters of an hour, an hour, and then at last, over
the shimmer of barley came the sight of hurrying figures,--the Squire
and Martin running to the rescue.

Grizel rose, crossed to Cassandra's side, and laid a gentle hand on her
shoulder. She must be prepared for the men's appearance. There must be
no more shocks.

"Wake up, dear. It's time. The men will be here in a minute to take us
home. Sit up! You are such a dishevelled old dear. Let me tidy you
up."

Cassandra had started painfully at the first touch, but she sat up now,
supporting herself on her hands, while Grizel smoothed the straying
hai