I would never take his money.
Why didn't you tell me--why didn't you warn me?" She turned to Tatham,
her little body shaking, and her face threatening tears.

"Why should Mr. Faversham do such a thing? Don't let him!--don't let him!
And I ought--I ought--to have been told!"

Faversham and Lydia approached her. But suddenly; putting her hands to
her face, she ran to the French window of the library, opened it, and
rushed into the garden.

Tatham and his mother looked at each other aghast.

"Run after her!" said Victoria in his ear. "Take this shawl!" She handed
him a wrap she had brought in upon her arm.

"Yes--it's December," said Boden, smiling, to Lady Tatham; "but
perhaps"--the accent was ironical--"when she comes back the seasons
will have changed!"

The session broke up in excited conversation, of which Faversham was the
centre.

"This is final?" said Undershaw, eying him keenly. "You intend to stand
by it?"

"'Fierce work it were to do again!'" said Faversham, in a quotation
recognized by Undershaw, who generally went to bed with a scientific book
on one side of him, and a volume of modern poets on the other. Faversham
was now radiant. He stood with his arm round Lydia. Victoria had her
hand.

* * * * *

Meanwhile in the Italian garden and through the yew hedges, Daphne fled,
and Apollo pursued. At last he caught her, and she sank upon a garden
seat. He put the shawl round her, and stood with his hands in his pockets
surveying her.

"What was the matter, Felicia?" he asked her, gently.

"It is ridiculous!" she said, sobbing. "Why wasn't I asked? I don't want
a guardian! I won't have you for a guardian!" And she beat her foot
angrily on the paved path.

Tatham laughed.

"You'll have to go back and behave nicely, Felicia. Haven't you any
thanks for Faversham?"

"I never asked him to do it! How can I look after all that! It'll kill
me. I want to sing! I want to go on the stage!"

He sat down beside her. Her dark head covered with its silky curls, her
very black eyes and arched brows in her small pink face, the pointed
chin, and tiny mouth, made a very winning figure of her, as she sat
there, under a garden vase, and an overhanging yew. And that, although
the shawl was huddled round her shoulders, and the eyes were red with
tears.

"You will be able to do anything you like, Felicia. You will be terribly
rich."

She gazed at him, the storm in her breast subsiding