t the cold, composed face that now wore an
expression of polite interest he felt a stir of fear. What was the real
woman cogitating under that civil mask? What was her real feeling
towards Sophy? Whether grief had sharpened his perceptions to an unusual
acuteness, or whether to-night some unusual force went out from Lady
Wychcote, it would be difficult to say--but a conviction as strong as
the conviction of his own existence seized him--the conviction that this
woman was Sophy's enemy--implacable, ruthless, willed to it with all her
being. And as he thought of what a clever, unscrupulous tongue might
make of Sophy's being with him at such an hour of night, he felt cold
with dread and anger. It seemed too horrible that the cruel past should
reach out to her even from the shadow of death. First the brutal
son--then his mother. It was as if Cecil Chesney grasped at the issues
of her life, even from the grave, through the cold will of his mother.

In the meantime, Sophy was describing the Marchesa's fall to Lady
Wychcote, who listened with that expression of civil interest, and now
and then an interjection of conventional regret.

The more Amaldi reflected, the more sinister the whole situation seemed
to him. But he was quite powerless. He excused himself in a few moments,
saying that he must get back to the villa as soon as possible. Lady
Wychcote murmured some expressions of formal sympathy. Sophy gave him a
cold, rather rigid, hand. Her eyes looked blank, like the eyes of a
puppet.

He went out sick at heart with impotent love and wrath.

When he had gone, Lady Wychcote said to Sophy:

"You look rather ill. Don't you think you'd better have something to eat
... some wine, perhaps?"

"Thanks, no. I'll just go to bed. Sleep will be the best thing for me."

"But you don't look as if you would sleep much," returned Lady Wychcote.
"You seem terribly overstrung...."

"Yes. It was a horrid thing to see!" Sophy answered. In her mind the
senseless, chaunting voice had begun again: "_It never rains but it
pours.... It never rains but it pours._"

Rosa came running back. She, too, pressed her mistress to eat and drink.

"No. I only want to lie down ... to be quiet, Rosa."

The kind soul, full of affectionate concern, threw an arm about her in
order to sustain her better.

"Good night," Sophy then said. "I'm sorry to have to leave you at once,
like this.... But I'm really worn out...."

"Just one thing before you go,"