asure of her glance, with its
absolute affection and trust, looked anxiously at Katharine.

"Yes, I'm happy," she assured him. "And I agree. We will never talk
about it again."

"Oh, Katharine, Katharine!" Cassandra cried, holding out her arms while
the tears ran down her cheeks.

CHAPTER XXX

The day was so different from other days to three people in the house
that the common routine of household life--the maid waiting at table,
Mrs. Hilbery writing a letter, the clock striking, and the door opening,
and all the other signs of long-established civilization appeared
suddenly to have no meaning save as they lulled Mr. and Mrs. Hilbery
into the belief that nothing unusual had taken place. It chanced that
Mrs. Hilbery was depressed without visible cause, unless a certain
crudeness verging upon coarseness in the temper of her favorite
Elizabethans could be held responsible for the mood. At any rate, she
had shut up "The Duchess of Malfi" with a sigh, and wished to know, so
she told Rodney at dinner, whether there wasn't some young writer with
a touch of the great spirit--somebody who made you believe that life
was BEAUTIFUL? She got little help from Rodney, and after singing
her plaintive requiem for the death of poetry by herself, she charmed
herself into good spirits again by remembering the existence of Mozart.
She begged Cassandra to play to her, and when they went upstairs
Cassandra opened the piano directly, and did her best to create an
atmosphere of unmixed beauty. At the sound of the first notes Katharine
and Rodney both felt an enormous sense of relief at the license which
the music gave them to loosen their hold upon the mechanism of behavior.
They lapsed into the depths of thought. Mrs. Hilbery was soon spirited
away into a perfectly congenial mood, that was half reverie and half
slumber, half delicious melancholy and half pure bliss. Mr. Hilbery
alone attended. He was extremely musical, and made Cassandra aware that
he listened to every note. She played her best, and won his approval.
Leaning slightly forward in his chair, and turning his little green
stone, he weighed the intention of her phrases approvingly, but stopped
her suddenly to complain of a noise behind him. The window was unhasped.
He signed to Rodney, who crossed the room immediately to put the matter
right. He stayed a moment longer by the window than was, perhaps,
necessary, and having done what was needed, drew his chair a little
close