called upon by the strenuousness of any occasion to mention baldly to
Lord Walderhurst that she "loved" him. It had not been necessary, and
she was too little used to it not to be abashed by finding herself
proclaiming the fact to his very waistcoat itself. She sat down holding
the garment in her hands and let her tears fall.

She looked about her at the room and across the corridor through the
open door at his study which adjoined it. They were fine rooms, and
every book and bust and chair looked singularly suggestive of his
personality. The whole house was beautiful and imposing in Emily's eyes.
"He has made all my life beautiful and full of comfort and happiness,"
she said, trembling. "He has saved me from everything I was afraid of,
and there is nothing I can _do_. Oh!" suddenly dropping a hot face on
her hands, "if I were only Hester Osborn. I should be glad to suffer
anything, or die in any way. I should have paid him back--just a
little--if I might."

For there was one thing she had learned through her yearning fervour,
not through any speech of his. All the desire and pride in him would be
fed full and satisfied if he could pass his name on to a creature of his
own flesh and blood. All the heat his cold nature held had concentrated
itself in a secret passion centred on this thing. She had begun to
awaken to a suspicion of this early in their marriage, and afterwards by
processes of inclusion and exclusion she had realised the proud
intensity of his feeling despite his reserve and silence. As for her,
she would have gone to the stake, or have allowed her flesh to be cut
into pieces to form that which would have given him reason for
exultation and pride. Such was the helpless, tragic, kindly love and
yearning of her.

* * * * *

The thing filled her with a passion of tenderness for Hester Osborn. She
yearned over her, too. Her spinster life had never brought her near to
the mystery of birth. She was very ignorant and deeply awed by the mere
thought of it. At the outset Hester had been coldly shy and reticent,
but as they saw each other more she began to melt before the unselfish
warmth of the other woman's overtures of friendship. She was very lonely
and totally inexperienced. As Agatha Slade had gradually fallen into
intimacy of speech, so did she. She longed so desperately for
companionship that the very intensity of her feelings impelled her to
greater openness than she had