s dangerous masculinity. It
was all a nightmare of scaring queer sensations, of things that could
never be settled. She was stirred for once out of all her normal
conquering philosophy. Her thoughts flew back to Miltoun. That which
she had seen in their faces, then, had come to pass! And picturing
Agatha's horror, when she came to hear of it, Barbara could not help a
smile. Poor Eustace! Why did he take things so hardly? If he really
carried out his resolve--and he never changed his mind--it would be
tragic! It would mean the end of everything for him!

Perhaps now he would get tired of Mrs. Noel. But she was not the sort of
woman a man would get tired of. Even Barbara in her inexperience felt
that. She would always be too delicately careful never to cloy him,
never to exact anything from him, or let him feel that he was bound to
her by so much as a hair. Ah! why couldn't they go on as if nothing had
happened? Could nobody persuade him? She thought again of Courtier. If
he, who knew them both, and was so fond of Mrs. Noel, would talk to
Miltoun, about the right to be happy, the right to revolt? Eustace ought
to revolt! It was his duty. She sat down to write; then, putting on her
hat, took the note and slipped downstairs.

CHAPTER XIX

The flowers of summer in the great glass house at Ravensham were keeping
the last afternoon-watch when Clifton summoned Lady Casterley with the
words:

"Lady Valleys in the white room."

Since the news of Miltoun's illness, and of Mrs. Noel's nursing, the
little old lady had possessed her soul in patience; often, it is true,
afflicted with poignant misgivings as to this new influence in the life
of her favourite, affected too by a sort of jealousy, not to be admitted,
even in her prayers, which, though regular enough, were perhaps somewhat
formal. Having small liking now for leaving home, even for Catton, her
country place, she was still at Ravensham, where Lord Dennis had come up
to stay with her as soon as Miltoun had left Sea House. But Lady
Casterley was never very dependent on company. She retained unimpaired
her intense interest in politics, and still corresponded freely with
prominent men. Of late, too, a slight revival of the June war scare had
made its mark on her in a certain rejuvenescence, which always
accompanied her contemplation of national crises, even when such were a
little in the air. At blast of trumpet her spirit still leaped forward,