entirely alone in the world acted
like a tonic.

The first brief sentiment of aversion which she had experienced towards
Elisabeth melted like snow in sunshine under the daily charm of her
companionship; and though the hyacinth eyes held always in their depths
that strange suggestion of mystery, Sara grew to believe it must be
merely some curious effect incidental to the colour and shape of the
eyes themselves, rather than an indication of the soul that looked out
of them.

There was something perennially captivating about Elisabeth. An
atmosphere of romance enveloped her, engendering continuous interest
and surmise, and Sara found it wholly impossible to view her from an
ordinary prosaic standpoint. Occasionally she would recall the fact that
Mrs. Durward was in reality a woman of over forty, mother of a grown-up
son who, according to all the usages of custom, should be settling down
into the drab and placid backwater of middle age, but she realized that
the description went ludicrously wide of the mark.

There was nothing in the least drab about Elisabeth, nor would there
ever be. She was full of colour and brilliance, reminding one of a great
glowing-hearted rose in its prime.

Part of her charm, undoubtedly, lay in her attitude towards husband and
son. She was still as romantically in love with Major Durward as any
girl in her teens, and she adored Tim quite openly.

Inevitably, perhaps, there was a touch of the spoilt woman about her,
since both men combined to indulge her in every whim. Nevertheless,
there was nothing either small or petty in her willfulness. It was
rather the superb, stately arrogance of a queen, and she was kindness
itself to Sara.

But the largest share of credit in restoring the latter to a more normal
and less highly strung condition was due to Tim, who gravitated towards
her with the facility common to natural man when he finds himself for
any length of time under the same roof with an attractive young person
of the opposite sex. He had an engaging habit of appearing at the door
of Sara's sitting-room with an ingratiating: "I say, may I come in for a
yarn?" And, upon receiving permission, he would establish himself on
the hearth-rug at her feet and proceed to prattle to her about his own
affairs, much as a brother might have done to a favourite sister,
and with an equal assurance that his confidences would be met with
sympathetic interest.

"What are you going to do with yourself, T