and dominant of it all, interpreting it all for him anew, the
dark, lithe creature beside his grandfather, so quick, sensitive,
extravagant, so much a woman, yet, to his lover's sense, so utterly
unlike any other woman he had ever seen--every detail of it was charged
to him with a thousand new meanings, now oppressive, now delightful.

For he was passing out of the first stage of passion, in which it is,
almost, its own satisfaction, so new and enriching is it to the whole
nature, into the second stage--the stage of anxiety, incredulity.
Marcella, sitting there on his own ground, after all his planning,
seemed to him not nearer, but further from him. She was terribly on her
dignity! Where was all that girlish abandonment gone which she had shown
him on that walk, beside the gate? There had been a touch of it, a
divine touch, before luncheon. How could he get her to himself again?

Meanwhile the conversation passed to the prevailing local topic--the
badness of the harvest, the low prices of everything, the consequent
depression among the farmers, and stagnation in the villages.

"I don't know what is to be done for the people this winter," said Lord
Maxwell, "without pauperising them, I mean. To give money is easy
enough. Our grandfathers would have doled out coal and blankets, and
thought no more of it. We don't get through so easily."

"No," said Lady Winterbourne, sighing. "It weighs one down. Last winter
was a nightmare. The tales one heard, and the faces one saw!--though we
seemed to be always giving. And in the middle of it Edward would buy me
a new set of sables. I begged him not, but he laughed at me."

"Well, my dear," said Miss Raeburn, cheerfully, "if nobody bought
sables, there'd be other poor people up in Russia, isn't it?--or
Hudson's Bay?--badly off. One has, to think of that. Oh, you needn't
talk, Aldous! I know you say it's a fallacy. _I_ call it common sense."

She got, however, only a slight smile from Aldous, who had long ago left
his great-aunt to work out her own economics. And, anyway, she saw that
he was wholly absorbed from his seat beside Lady Winterbourne in
watching Miss Boyce.

"It's precisely as Lord Maxwell says," replied Lady Winterbourne; "that
kind of thing used to satisfy everybody. And our grandmothers were very
good women. I don't know why we, who give ourselves so much more trouble
than they did, should carry these thorns about with us, while they went
free."

She drew herse