unsheathed its sword, and stood at the salute. At such times, she rose
earlier, went to bed later, was far less susceptible to draughts, and
refused with asperity any food between meals. She wrote too with her own
hand letters which she would otherwise have dictated to her secretary.
Unfortunately the scare had died down again almost at once; and the
passing of danger always left her rather irritable. Lady Valleys' visit
came as a timely consolation.

She kissed her daughter critically; for there was that about her manner
which she did not like.

"Yes, of course I am well!" she said. "Why didn't you bring Barbara?"

"She was tired!"

"H'm! Afraid of meeting me, since she committed that piece of folly over
Eustace. You must be careful of that child, Gertrude, or she will be
doing something silly herself. I don't like the way she keeps Claud
Harbinger hanging in the wind."

Her daughter cut her short:

"There is bad news about Eustace."

Lady Casterley lost the little colour in her cheeks; lost, too, all her
superfluity of irritable energy.

"Tell me, at once!"

Having heard, she said nothing; but Lady Valleys noticed with alarm that
over her eyes had come suddenly the peculiar filminess of age.

"Well, what do you advise?" she asked.

Herself tired, and troubled, she was conscious of a quite unwonted
feeling of discouragement before this silent little figure, in the silent
white room. She had never before seen her mother look as if she heard
Defeat passing on its dark wings. And moved by sudden tenderness for the
little frail body that had borne her so long ago, she murmured almost
with surprise:

"Mother, dear!"

"Yes," said Lady Casterley, as if speaking to herself, "the boy saves
things up; he stores his feelings--they burst and sweep him away. First
his passion; now his conscience. There are two men in him; but this will
be the death of one of them." And suddenly turning on her daughter, she
said:

"Did you ever hear about him at Oxford, Gertrude? He broke out once, and
ate husks with the Gadarenes. You never knew. Of course--you never have
known anything of him."

Resentment rose in Lady Valleys, that anyone should knew her son better
than herself; but she lost it again looking at the little figure, and
said, sighing:

"Well?"

Lady Casterley murmured:

"Go away, child; I must think. You say he's to consult' Dennis? Do you
know her address? Ask Barbara when you get back and