ay. Lady Niton could see the extreme
delicacy to which the profile had fined down, the bluish or purple
shadows here and there on the white skin. Something glittered in the old
woman's eyes. She put out a hand from the queer flounced mantle, made
out of an ancient evening dress, in which she was arrayed, and
touched Diana's.

"You know--you've heard--about those poor things at Tallyn?"

Diana made a quick movement. Her eyes were on the speaker.

"How is Mr. Marsham?"

Lady Niton shook her head. She opened a hand-bag on her wrist, took out
a letter, and put on her eye-glasses.

"This is Lucy--arrived this morning. It don't sound well. 'Come when you
can, my dear Elizabeth--you will be very welcome. But I do not know how
I have the courage to ask you. We are a depressing pair, Oliver and I.
Oliver has been in almost constant pain this last week. If it goes on we
must try morphia. But before that we shall see another doctor. I dread
to think of morphia. Once begin it, and what will be the end? I sit here
alone a great deal--thinking. How long did that stone take to throw?--a
few seconds, perhaps? And here is my son--my poor son!--broken and
helpless--perhaps for life. We have been trying a secretary to write for
him and read to him, for the blindness increases, but it has not been a
success.'"

Diana rose abruptly and walked to the window, where she stood,
motionless--looking out--her back turned to Lady Niton. Her companion
glanced at her--lifted her eyebrows--hesitated--and finally put the
letter back into her pocket. There was an awkward silence, when Diana
suddenly returned to Lady Niton's side.

"Where is Miss Drake?" she said, sharply. "Is the marriage put off?"

"Marriage!" Lady Niton laughed. "Alicia and Oliver? H'm. I don't think
we shall hear much more of that!"

"I thought it was settled."

"Well, as soon as I heard of the accident and Oliver's condition, I
wondered to myself how long that young woman would keep it up. I have no
doubt the situation gave her a disturbed night or two, Alicia never can
have had: the smallest intention of spending her life, or the best
years of it, in nursing a sick husband. On the other hand, money is
money. So she went off to the Treshams', to see if there was no third
course--that's how I read it."

"The Treshams'?--a visit?--since the accident?"

"Don't look so astonished, my dear. You don't know the Alicias of this
world. But I admit we should be dull without the