plan as had actually sprung to light.
And she understood Sorell's opposition.

All the same, her heart sang over it. When she had asked Radowitz and
Douglas to meet, each unbeknown to the other, when she had sent away the
kind old aunts and prepared it all, she had reckoned on powers of
feeling in Falloden, in which apparently only she and Aunt Marcia
believed; and she had counted on the mystical and religious fervour she
had long since discovered in Radowitz. That night--after Sir Arthur's
death--she had looked tremblingly into the boy's very soul, had
perceived his wondering sense of a special message to him through what
had happened, from a God who suffered and forgives.

Yes, she had tried to make peace.

And she guessed--the tears blinding her as she walked--at the true
meaning of Falloden's sudden impulse, and Otto's consent. Falloden's was
an impulse of repentance; and Otto's had been an impulse of pardon, in
the Christian sense. "If I am to die, I will die at peace with him." Was
that the thought--the tragic and touching thought--in the boy's mind?

As to Falloden, could he do it?--could he rise to the height of what was
offered him? She prayed he might; she believed he could.

Her whole being was aflame. Douglas was no longer in love with her; that
was clear. What matter, if he made peace with his own soul? As for her,
she loved him with her whole heart, and meant to go on loving him,
whatever any one might say. And that being so, she would of course
never marry.

Could she ever make Nora understand the situation? By letter, it was
certainly useless to try!

PART III

CHAPTER XVI

Constance Bledlow stepped out of the Bletchley train into the crowded
Oxford station. Annette was behind her. As they made their way towards
the luggage van, Connie saw a beckoning hand and face. They belonged to
Nora Hooper, and in another minute Connie found herself taken possession
of by her cousin. Nora was deeply sunburnt. Her colour was more garishly
red and brown, her manner more trenchant than ever. At sight of Connie
her face flushed with a sudden smile, as though the owner of the face
could not help it. Yet they had only been a few minutes together before
Connie had discovered that, beneath the sunburn, there was a look of
tension and distress, and that the young brown eyes, usually so bright
and bold, were dulled with fatigue. But to notice such things in Nora
was only to be scorned. Connie held her tongu