ent an hour or two with him, and together they planned for the
changing seasons of the year to come. How she could keep her mind on a
thing, and what a head she had for planning, and what an eye for colour!
But yes--there was something a bit wrong somehow. Now and then she would
stop and stand still for a moment, and suddenly it struck Kedgers that
she looked as if she were listening.

"Did you think you heard something, miss?" he asked her once when she
paused and wore this look.

"No," she answered, "no." And drew him on quickly--almost as if she did
not want him to hear what she had seemed listening for.

When she left him and went back to the house, all the loveliness of
spring, summer and autumn had been thought out and provided for. Kedgers
stood on the path and looked after her until she passed through the
terrace door. He chewed his lip uneasily. Then he remembered something
and felt a bit relieved. It was the service he remembered.

"Ah! it's that that's upset her--and it's natural, seeing how she's
helped him and Dunstan village. It's only natural." He chewed his lip
again, and nodded his head in odd reflection. "Ay! Ay!" he summed her
up. "She's a great lady that--she's a great lady--same as if she'd been
born in a civilised land."

During the rest of the day the look of question in Rosalie's eyes
changed in its nature. When her sister was near her she found herself
glancing at her with a new feeling. It was a growing feeling, which
gradually became--anxiousness. Betty presented to her the aspect of one
withdrawn into some remote space. She was not living this day as her
days were usually lived. She did not sit still or stroll about the
gardens quietly. The consecutiveness of her action seemed broken. She
did one thing after another, as if she must fill each moment. This was
not her Betty. Lady Anstruthers watched and thought until, in the end,
a new pained fear began to creep slowly into her mind, and make her feel
as if she were slightly trembling though her hands did not shake. She
did not dare to allow herself to think the thing she knew she was on the
brink of thinking. She thrust it away from her, and tried not to think
at all. Her Betty--her splendid Betty, whom nothing could hurt--who
could not be touched by any awful thing--her dear Betty!

In the afternoon she saw her write notes steadily for an hour, then she
went out into the stables and visited the horses, talked to the coachman
and to her