To think these things was
to feel herself drowning in fear.

Emerging from the higher trees she caught sight below her of Mrs.
Talcott's old straw hat moving among the borders; and, in the midst of
the emptiness, the sight was strength and hope. The whole world seemed
to narrow to Mrs. Talcott. She was secure and real. She was a spar to be
clung to. The nightmare would reveal itself as illusion if she kept near
Mrs. Talcott. She ran down to her.

Mrs. Talcott was slaying slugs. She had placed pieces of orange-peel
around cherished young plants to attract the depredators and she held a
jar of soot; into the soot the slugs were dropped as she discovered
them.

The sight of her was like a draught of water to parching lips. Reality
slowly grew round Karen once more. Tante had been hasty, even unkind;
but she was piteous, absorbed in this great devotion; and Tante loved
her.

She walked beside Mrs. Talcott and helped her with the slugs.

"Been out for a walk, Karen?" Mrs. Talcott inquired. They had reached
the end of the border and moved on to a higher one.

"Only to the cliff," said Karen.

"You look kind of tired," Mrs. Talcott remarked, and Karen owned that
she felt tired. "It's so warm to-day," she said.

"Yes; it's real hot. Let's walk under the trees." Mrs. Talcott took out
her handkerchief and wiped her large, saffron-coloured forehead.

They walked slowly in the thin shadow of the young foliage.

"You're staying on for a while, aren't you?" Mrs. Talcott inquired
presently. She had as yet asked Karen no question and Karen felt that
something in her own demeanour had caused this one.

"For more than a while," she said. "I am not going away again." In the
sound of the words she found a curious reassurance. Was it not her home,
Les Solitudes?

Mrs. Talcott said nothing for some moments, stooping to nip a drooping
leaf from a plant they passed. Then she questioned further: "Is Mr.
Jardine coming down here?"

"I have left my husband," said Karen.

For some moments, Mrs. Talcott, again, said nothing, but she no longer
had an eye for the plants. Neither did she look at Karen; her gaze was
fixed before her. "Is that so," was at last her comment.

The phrase might have expressed amazement, commiseration or protest; its
sound remained ambiguous. They had come to a rustic bench. "Let's sit
down for a while," she said; "I'm not as young as I was."

They sat down, the old woman heavily, and she drew a sigh of