't, you will come to grief.'"

"Then you think it would be better to be 'resigned,' and look after
one's own soul?"

"Heaven knows what would be better!" Algitha exclaimed. "But one thing
is certain, you ought to look after your body, for the present at any
rate."

CHAPTER L.

Hadria had found the autumn saddening, and the winter tempt her to
morbid thoughts, but the coming of spring made her desperate. It would
not allow her to be passive, it would not permit her emotions to lie
prone and exhausted. Everything was waking, and she must wake too, to
the bitterest regret and the keenest longings of which she was capable.

She had tried to avoid everything that would arouse these futile
emotions; she had attempted to organise her life on new lines,
persisting in her attitude of non-surrender, but winning, as far as she
was able, the rest that, at present, could only be achieved by means of
a sort of inward apathy. It was an instinctive effort of
self-preservation. She was like a fierce fire, over which ashes have
been heaped to keep down the flames, and check its ardour. She had to
eat her heart out in dullness, to avoid its flaming out in madness. But
the spring came and carried her away on its torrent. She might as well
have tried to resist an avalanche. She thought that she had given up all
serious thought of music; the surrender was necessary, and she had
judged it folly to tempt herself by further dallying with it. It was too
strong for her. And the despair that it awoke seemed to break up her
whole existence, and render her unfit for her daily task. But now she
found that, once more, she had underrated the strength of her own
impulses. For some time she resisted, but one day, the sun shone out
strong and genial, the budding trees spread their branches to the warm
air, a blackbird warbled ecstatically from among the Priory shrubberies,
and Hadria passed into the garden of the Griffins.

The caretaker smiled, when she saw who stood on the doorstep.

"Why ma'am, I thought you was never coming again to play on the piano; I
_have_ missed it, that I have. It makes the old place seem that
cheerful--I can almost fancy it's my poor young mistress come back
again. She used to sit and play on that piano, by the hour together."

"I am glad you have enjoyed it," said Hadria gently. The blinds were
pulled up in the drawing-room, the piano was uncovered, the windows
thrown open to the terrace.

"You haven't had m