vency and to gratify his lifelong passion under
the very wing of Death.

But oh, my wild woe, my frantic prayers! It was almost as if Satan
himself were torturing me.

The one terror of the next few days was that my husband might return
home, for I knew that at the first moment of his arrival the whole world
of make-believe which my father and Alma were setting up around me would
tumble about my head like a pack of cards.

He did not come, but he wrote. After saying that his political duties
would keep him in London a little longer, he said:

"I hear that your father is getting you to give a great reception in
honour of our home-coming. But why _now_, instead of three months ago?
_Do you know the reason?_"

As I read these last words I felt an icy numbness creeping up from my
feet to my heart. My position was becoming intolerable. The conviction
was being forced upon me that I had no right in my husband's house.

It made no difference that my husband's house was mine also, in the
sense that it could not exist without me--I had no right to be there.

It made no difference that my marriage had been no marriage--I had no
right to be there.

It made no difference that the man I had married was an utterly bad
husband--I had no right to be there.

It made no difference that I was not really an adulterous wife--I had no
right to be there.

Meanwhile Price, my maid, but my only real friend in Castle Raa, with
the liberty I allowed her, was unconsciously increasing my torture.
Every night as she combed out my hair she gave me her opinion of my
attitude towards Alma, and one night she said:

"Didn't I tell you she was only watching you, my lady? The nasty-minded
thing is making mischief with his lordship. She's writing to him every
day. . . . How do I know? Oh, I don't keep my eyes and my ears open
downstairs for nothing. You'll have no peace of your life, my lady,
until you turn that woman out of the house."

Then in a fit of despair, hardly knowing what I was doing, I covered my
face with my hands and said:

"I had better turn myself out instead, perhaps."

The combing of my hair suddenly stopped, and at the next moment I heard
Price saying in a voice which seemed to come from a long way off:

"Goodness gracious me! Is it like that, my lady?"

SEVENTY-FIFTH CHAPTER

Alma was as good as her word.

She did everything without consulting me--fixed the date of the
reception for a month after the day of