tter which made the recipient in Fulham chuckle with
contentment. At Ashtead he enjoyed himself in the old way, gladdened by
the pleasure with which his friends talked of Rosamund's marriage. Mrs.
Pomfret took an opportunity of speaking to him apart, a bright smile on
her good face.

"Of course we know who did much, if not everything, to bring it about.
Rosamund came and told me how beautifully you had pleaded Norbert's
cause, and Norbert confided to my husband that, but for you, he would
most likely have married a girl he really didn't care about at all. I
doubt whether a _mere man_ ever did such a thing so discreetly and
successfully before!"

In October, Will began to waver in his resolve not to go down into
Suffolk before Christmas. There came a letter from his mother which
deeply moved him; she spoke of old things as well as new, and declared
that in her husband and in her children no woman had ever known truer
happiness. This was at the middle of the week; Will all but made up his
mind to take an early train on the following Sunday. On Friday he wrote
to Jane, telling her to expect him, and, as he walked home from the
shop that evening he felt glad that he had overcome the feelings which
threatened to make this first visit something of a trial to his
self-respect.

"There's a telegram a-waiting for you, sir," said Mrs. Wick, as he
entered.

The telegram contained four words:

"Mother ill. Please come."

CHAPTER 41

Happen what might in the world beyond her doors, Mrs. Cross led the
wonted life of domestic discomfort and querulousness. An interval there
had been this summer, a brief, uncertain interval, when something like
good-temper seemed to struggle with her familiar mood; it was the month
or two during which Norbert Franks resumed his friendly visitings.
Fallen out of Mrs. Cross's good graces since his failure to become her
tenant a couple of years ago, the artist had but to present himself
again to be forgiven, and when it grew evident that he came to the
house on Bertha's account, he rose into higher favour than ever. But
this promising state of things abruptly ended. One morning, Bertha,
with a twinkle in her eyes, announced the fact of Franks' marriage. Her
mother was stricken with indignant amaze.

"And you laugh about it?"

"It's so amusing," answered Bertha.

Mrs. Cross examined her daughter.

"I don't understand you," she exclaimed, in a tone of irritation. "I do
_not_ understan