"You will have five hundred a year, Mother," Mary said quietly. "Teresa
will marry, and you and I--we can be quite comfortable on five hundred a
year."

Mrs Mallison's eyes shot out a sideways glance, and beheld before her
the Mary of old, seated with bowed back and bowed head in her old chair
in the corner by the fire-place, and the year that had passed rolled
from her memory like a worrying dream.

"Of course," she said briskly, "we must remove. There will be no
necessity for so many rooms. If we put out the washing we can manage
quite nicely with one maid, and you to assist in the mornings. After
being idle for so long, you will enjoy making yourself of use."

"I think I shall," said Mary. And she meant it.

The maid brought in the tray at that moment, the subject was necessarily
dropped. Probably a fortune of ten thousand pounds has never changed
hands so swiftly and silently! From that hour to the day of her death,
Mrs Mallison showed no sign of realising that she was living on her
daughter's money, not her own.

The tea was poured out, the muffin was brought in, piping hot, under its
silver cover, before Teresa made her appearance, and Mary, staring with
blank eyes at a tall, thin girl, with pale cheeks and listless eyes,
felt that this was not the Teresa of yore, but a stranger with whom she
had no acquaintance.

The sisters embraced, in silence, and with a listlessness as pronounced
on one side as the other. There was no sign in Teresa's manner of the
remorseful affection which her letter had expressed. "She looks--like
me!" said Mary to herself, and her eyes strayed to her sister's left
hand. The flash of diamonds showed that there was no avowed breach with
Dane, though the mystery of the deferred marriage was still to be
solved. Mary found no clue thereto in her mother's continued monologue,
though it was discursive enough to take in the whole countryside.

"Teresa will be glad to have you back--so much to do... The bell has
been ringing all day long. Lovely flowers! A wreath of lilies from the
Court. And there will be the cards... We shall have to draw one out.
There _were_ no kind enquiries, so we can't thank for them. It was so
sudden; only a few minutes. He called out for me--I went to him, and
held his poor head. Teresa said I was kind. Of course I was kind! He
called me `Margaret,' and then--in a minute... wasn't it only a minute,
Teresa? he was gone!... Poor Henry! Poor