conventional nature recognised the duty of honouring a parent, and he
had a genuine and rather touching affection for the cross old woman, who
rarely opened her mouth except to grumble and lament. To Cassandra the
mother-in-law had been an unmitigated trial, and she could not affect to
feel regret at the prospect of an end to a weary invalidism. The
knife-like pang which rent her heart had no connection with the house of
Raynor.

"You--you are going down at once?"

"What do you think! Of course we're going. I was just coming up to
tell you to get ready."

The pang of presentiment had been well founded. Cassandra felt the
hopelessness of a trapped animal, but desperation nerved her to a feeble
protest.

"Me? Bernard! _ought_ I to come? She'll be unconscious. I couldn't
_do_ anything. I should only be another person in the house--giving
more trouble."

The blue eyes had their most steely glance as he turned upon her.

"More shame to you if you did! You can nurse her, can't you? Take your
turn with the maid? She has a prejudice against hired nurses. Good
heavens, have you no feeling? My mother ill--dying--and you talk of
staying at home! What's the matter if she is unconscious? Your duty is
to go and look after her, and I'll see that you do it." He pulled out
his watch and looked at it hastily. "You have twenty-five minutes
before the car comes round. Get Rogers to put a few things in a bag--
just what you want for to-night. She can bring along the boxes
to-morrow. Goodness knows how long we may have to stay..."

He wheeled round and went back to his room, and Cassandra dragged
wearily upstairs. Twenty-five minutes--in twenty-five minutes' time
Dane would be awaiting her in the summer-house, and she herself would be
leaving the house, leaving the neighbourhood, travelling down to the
wilds of Devon, there to remain for goodness knew how long, out of
sight, out of touch,--a prisoner, when of all times in her life she most
longed to be free.

Wild impulses flocked into her mind, an impulse to turn back, make her
escape into the shrubbery, and fly to keep her tryst. If Dane were
waiting, would it be possible to reach him, to explain, feel for one
moment the grip of his arms, and get back in time to change her dress,
and be ready for the car? No, it was impossible. Moreover, what if
Dane had not yet arrived? When she had gone so far, would she have
courage to drag herself from the spot, whe