explained to anyone but Lady
Anstruthers, at the door of whose dressing room he appeared without
warning, just as she was leaving it.

Rosalie started when she found herself confronting him. His eyes looked
hot and hollow with feverish sleeplessness.

"You look ill," she exclaimed involuntarily. "You look as if you had not
slept."

"Thank you. You always encourage a man. I am not in the habit of
sleeping much," he answered. "I am going away for my health. It is as
well you should know. I am going to look up old Broadmorlands. I want
to know exactly where he is, in case it becomes necessary for me to see
him. I also require some trifling data connected with Ffolliott. If
your father is coming, it will be as well to be able to lay my hands on
things. You can explain to Betty. Good-morning." He waited for no reply,
but wheeled about and left her.

Betty herself wore a changed face when she came down. A cloud had passed
over her blooming, as clouds pass over a morning sky and dim it. Rosalie
asked herself if she had not noticed something like this before. She
began to think she had. Yes, she was sure that at intervals there had
been moments when she had glanced at the brilliant face with an uneasy
and yet half-unrealising sense of looking at a glowing light temporarily
waning. The feeling had been unrealisable, because it was not to be
explained. Betty was never ill, she was never low-spirited, she
was never out of humour or afraid of things--that was why it was so
wonderful to live with her. But--yes, it was true--there had been
days when the strong, fine light of her had waned. Lady Anstruthers'
comprehension of it arose now from her memory of the look she had seen
the night before in the eyes which suddenly had gazed straight before
her, as into an unknown place.

"Yes, I know--I know--I know!" And the tone in the girl's voice had been
one Rosy had not heard before.

Slight wonder--if you KNEW--at any outward change which showed itself,
though in your own most desperate despite. It would be so even with
Betty, who, in her sister's eyes, was unlike any other creature. But
perhaps it would be better to make no comment. To make comment would be
almost like asking the question she had been forbidden to ask.

While the servants were in the room during breakfast they talked
of common things, resorting even to the weather and the news of the
village. Afterwards they passed into the morning room together, and
Betty put