equal to the occasion. Lifting her hand in
a weak, deprecating way, and then shrinking like one borne down by the
shock of a great disappointment, she moved back from the excited woman
and made her way to the hall, Mrs. Dinneford following and assailing her
in passionate language.

Edith was thrown completely off her guard by this unexpected scene. She
did not stir from the spot where she stood on entering the parlor until
the visitor was at the street door, whither her mother had followed the
retreating figure. She did not hear the woman say in the tone of one who
spoke more in command than entreaty,

"To-morrow at one o'clock, or take the consequences."

"It will be impossible to-morrow," Mrs. Dinneford whispered back,
hurriedly; "I have been very ill, and have only just begun to ride out.
It may be a week, but I'll surely come. I'm watched. Go now! go! go!"

And she pushed Mrs. Bray out into the vestibule and shut the door after
her. Mrs. Dinneford did not return to the parlor, but went hastily up to
her own room, locking herself in.

She did not come out until dinner-time, when she made an effort to seem
composed, but Edith saw her hand tremble every time it was lifted. She
drank three glasses of wine during the meal. After dinner she went to
her own apartment immediately, and did not come down again that day.

On the next morning Mrs. Dinneford tried to appear cheerful and
indifferent. But her almost colorless face, pinched about the lips and
nostrils, and the troubled expression that would not go out of her eyes,
betrayed to Edith the intense anxiety and dread that lay beneath the
surface.

Days went by, but Edith had no more signs. Now that her mother was
steadily getting back both bodily strength and mental self-poise, the
veil behind which she was hiding herself, and which had been broken into
rifts here and there during her sickness, grew thicker and thicker. Mrs.
Dinneford had too much at stake not to play her cards with exceeding
care. She knew that Edith was watching her with an intentness that let
nothing escape. Her first care, as soon as she grew strong enough to
have the mastery over herself, was so to control voice, manner and
expression of countenance as not to appear aware of this surveillance.
Her next was to re-establish the old distance between herself and
daughter, which her illness had temporarily bridged over, and her next
was to provide against any more visits from Mrs. Bray.

C