being a coward."

But she said nothing of the fact that she was not a coward for herself,
but through a slowly formulating and struggled--against fear, which
chilled her very heart, and which she could best cover by a pretence of
being a poltroon.

She could not sleep when she went to bed. The night seemed crowded with
strange, terrified thoughts. They were all of Betty, though sometimes
she thought of her father's coming, of her mother in New York, and of
Betty's steady working throughout the day. Sometimes she cried, twisting
her hands together, and sometimes she dropped into a feverish sleep, and
dreamed that she was watching Betty's face, yet was afraid to look at
it.

She awakened suddenly from one of these dreams, and sat upright in bed
to find the dawn breaking. She rose and threw on a dressing-gown, and
went to her sister's room because she could not bear to stay away.

The door was not locked, and she pushed it open gently. One of the
windows had its blind drawn up, and looked like a patch of dull grey.
Betty was standing upright near it. She was in her night-gown, and a
long black plait of hair hung over one shoulder heavily. She looked all
black and white in strong contrast. The grey light set her forth as a
tall ghost.

Lady Anstruthers slid forward, feeling a tightness in her chest.

"The dawn wakened me too," she said.

"I have been waiting to see it come," answered Betty. "It is going to be
a dull, dreary day."

CHAPTER XLVII

"I HAVE NO WORD OR LOOK TO REMEMBER"

It was a dull and dreary day, as Betty had foreseen it would be. Heavy
rain clouds hung and threatened, and the atmosphere was damp and chill.
It was one of those days of the English autumn which speak only of the
end of things, bereaving one of the power to remember next year's spring
and summer, which, after all, must surely come. Sky is grey, trees are
grey, dead leaves lie damp beneath the feet, sunlight and birds seem
forgotten things. All that has been sad and to be regretted or feared
hangs heavy in the air and sways all thought. In the passing of these
hours there is no hope anywhere. Betty appeared at breakfast in short
dress and close hat. She wore thick little boots, as if for walking.

"I am going to make visits in the village," she said. "I want a basket
of good things to take with me. Stourton's children need feeding after
their measles. They looked very thin when I saw them playing in the road
yesterday."

"Ye