ady crept to and fro
before the bench, combating the sense that it was occupied by a judge,
looking at her boot-toes, reminding herself in doing so of Mona, and
lightly crunching the pebbles as she walked. She moved about because she
was afraid, putting off from moment to moment the exercise of the
courage she had been sure she possessed. That courage would all come to
her if she could only be equally sure that what she should be called
upon to do for Owen would be to suffer. She had wondered, while Mrs.
Gereth spoke, how that lady would describe her justification. She had
described it as if to be irreproachably fair, give her adversary the
benefit of every doubt, and then dismiss the question forever. "Of
course," Mrs. Gereth went on, "if we didn't succeed in showing him at
Poynton the ground we took, it's simply that he shuts his eyes. What I
supposed was that you would have given him your opinion that if I was
the woman so signally to assert myself, I'm also the woman to rest upon
it imperturbably enough."

Fleda stopped in front of her hostess. "I gave him my opinion that
you're very logical, very obstinate, and very proud."

"Quite right, my dear: I'm a rank bigot--about that sort of thing!" and
Mrs. Gereth jerked her head at the contents of the house. "I've never
denied it. I'd kidnap--to save them, to convert them--the children of
heretics. When I know I'm right I go to the stake. Oh, he may burn me
alive!" she cried with a happy face. "Did he abuse me?" she then
demanded.

Fleda had remained there, gathering in her purpose. "How little you know
him!"

Mrs. Gereth stared, then broke into a laugh that her companion had not
expected. "Ah, my dear, certainly not so well as you!" The girl, at
this, turned away again--she felt she looked too conscious; and she was
aware that, during a pause, Mrs. Gereth's eyes watched her as she went.
She faced about afresh to meet them, but what she met was a question
that reinforced them. "Why had you a 'delicacy' as to speaking of Mona?"

She stopped again before the bench, and an inspiration came to her. "I
should think _you_ would know," she said with proper dignity.

Blankness was for a moment on Mrs. Gereth's brow; then light broke--she
visibly remembered the scene in the breakfast-room after Mona's night at
Poynton. "Because I contrasted you--told him _you_ were the one?" Her
eyes looked deep. "You were--you are still!"

Fleda gave a bold dramatic laugh. "Thank you, my