ther cry?"

"Yes, once," said Michael. "It was when I was talking through my hat
about the war."

"I've never seen her cry," said Stella pensively. "Until to-day."

Michael forgot about his own distress in the thought of his mother, and
he sat hushed all through the evening, while Stella played in the
darkness. Mrs. Fane went up to her own room immediately she came in that
night, and the next morning, which was Saturday, Michael listlessly took
the paper out to read in the garden, while he waited for Stella to dress
herself so that they could go out together and avoid the house over
which seemed to impend calamity.

Opening the paper, Michael saw an obituary notice of the Earl of Saxby.
He scanned the news, only half absorbing it:

"In another column will be found the details--enteric--adds another
famous name to the lamentable toll of this war--the late nobleman did
not go into society much of late years--formerly Captain in the Welsh
Guards--born 1860--married Lady Emmeline MacDonald, daughter of the Earl
of Skye, K.T.--raised corps of Mounted Infantry (Saxby's Horse)--great
traveller--unfortunately no heir to the title which becomes extinct."

Michael guessed the cause of his mother's unhappiness of yesterday. He
went upstairs and told Stella.

"I suppose mother was in love with him," she said.

"I suppose she was," Michael agreed. "I wish I hadn't refused to say
good-bye to him. It seems rather horrible now."

Mrs. Fane had left word that she would not be home until after dinner,
and Michael and Stella sat apprehensive and silent in the drawing-room.
Sometimes they would toss backwards and forwards to each other
reassuring words, while outside the livid evening of ochreous oppressive
clouds and ashen pavements slowly dislustred into a night swollen with
undelivered rain and baffled thunders.

About nine o'clock Mrs. Fane came home. She stood for a moment in the
doorway of the room, palely regarding her children. She seemed undecided
about something, but after a long pause she sat down between them and
began to speak:

"Something has happened, dear children, that I think you ought to know
about before you grow any older."

Mrs. Fane paused again and stared before her, seeming to be reaching out
for strength to continue. Michael and Stella sat breathless as the air
of the night. Mrs. Fane's white kid gloves fell to the floor softly like
the petals of a blown rose, and as if she missed their companionship