ington. But she described the old man's
gallant dying as best she could; while Aileen Moffatt listened with that
manner at once timid and rich in feeling which seemed to be her
characteristic.

As they neared the top of the hill where the road begins to incline
towards Charnex, Julie noticed signs of fatigue in her companion.

"You have been an invalid," she said. "You ought not to go farther. May
I take you home? Would your mother dislike to see me?"

The girl paused perceptibly. "Ah, there she is!"

They had turned towards Brent, and Julie saw coming towards them, with
somewhat rapid steps, a small, elderly lady, gray-haired, her features
partly hidden by her country hat.

A thrill passed through Julie. This was the sister whose name her mother
had mentioned in her last hour. It was as though something of her
mother, something that must throw light upon that mother's life and
being, were approaching her along this Swiss road.

But the lady in question, as she neared them, looked with surprise, not
unmingled with hauteur, upon her daughter and the stranger beside her.

"Aileen, why did you go so far? You promised me only to be a quarter of
an hour."

"I am not tired, mother. Mother, this is Mrs. Delafield. You remember,
Uncle Uredale wrote--"

Lady Blanche Moffatt stood still. Once more a fear swept through Julie's
mind, and this time it stayed. After an evident hesitation, a hand was
coldly extended.

"How do you do? I heard from my brothers of your marriage, but they said
you were in Italy."

"We have just come from there."

"And your husband?"

"He has gone down to Montreux, but he should be home very soon now. We
are only a few steps from our little inn. Would you not rest there? Miss
Moffatt looks very tired."

There was a pause. Lady Blanche was considering her daughter. Julie saw
the trembling of her wide, irregular mouth, of which the lips were
slightly turned outward. Finally she drew her daughter's hand into her
arm, and bent anxiously towards her, scrutinizing her face.

"Thank you. We will rest a quarter of an hour. Can we get a carriage at
Charnex?"

"Yes, I think so, if you will wait a little on our balcony."

They walked on towards Charnex. Lady Blanche began to talk resolutely of
the weather, which was, indeed, atrocious. She spoke as she would have
done to the merest acquaintance. There was not a word of her father; not
a word, either, of her brother's letter, or of Julie's relati