; it was as though, if she could get some realisation of that,
she would have won her way to a vantage-point whence she could
visualise the next place. She did not think this out. She only felt in
her heart a little less lonely, a little less wicked and selfish, a
little less deserted, as though she were drawing nearer to some hidden
fire and could feel the first warm shadow of the flames.

She made one more appeal to Grace on the very morning of the first day
of the Revival.

After breakfast Maggie came into the drawing-room and found Grace
sitting there sewing.

She stood, timidly, in her old attitude, her hands clasped in front of
her, like a child saying her lesson.

"I beg your pardon, Grace."

Grace looked up. She had of course been conscious of Maggie ever since
her entrance into the room. Her hands had trembled and her heart leapt
furiously.

"Why, Maggie--" she said.

"I'm afraid I'm disturbing you," said Maggie, "but we haven't really
said anything to one another for the last fortnight. I don't suppose
that you want me to say anything now, but things get worse and worse if
no one says anything, don't they?" Now that she had begun she went on
quickly: "I wanted to say, Grace, how sorry I am for the trouble and
unhappiness that you and Paul have had during the last fortnight
through me. I've been nothing but a trouble to you since I first came
here, but it wasn't that that I wanted to say. I couldn't bear that you
should think that I was just selfishly full of my own affairs and
didn't understand how you and Paul must feel about--about my uncle. Not
that I mean," she went on rather fiercely, raising her head, "that he
was to blame. No one ever understood him. He could have done great
things if--if--some one had looked after him a little. But he hadn't
any one. That was my fault. I didn't want you and Paul to think I don't
blame myself. I do all the time. I can't promise to be better in the
future because I've promised so often and I never am. But I am sorry."

Grace said nothing for a moment. Her hands trembled more than ever.
Then, without looking up, she murmured as though to her sewing:

"Oh no. Maggie ... no one blames you, I'm sure."

There was another pause, then Grace said:

"I think I'm not well. No, I can't be well because I'm not sleeping,
although I've taken aspirin more, I'm sure, than I ought to. What I
mean is that they say it's bad for your heart. Of course things have
been very unf