to obey the artist's directions. He walked a
long way, the exercise helping him to combat his complicated
wretchedness, but at length he felt weary and threw himself into a cab.

The servant who opened the door to him said that Mrs. Elgar had been in
for a few minutes, about an hour ago; she would be back again by
lunch-time.

CHAPTER XV

PEACE IN SHOW AND PEACE IN TRUTH

At first so much relieved that he was able to sit down and quietly
review his thoughts, Elgar could not long preserve this frame of mind;
in half an hour he began to suffer from impatience, and when the time
of Cecily's return approached, he was in a state of intolerable
agitation. Mallard's severity lost its force now that it was only
remembered. He accused himself of having been, as always, weakly
sensitive to the moment's impression. The fact remained that Cecily had
spent a long time alone with Mallard, had made him the confidant of her
troubles; it credible in human nature--the past borne in mind--that
Mallard had never exceeded a passionless sympathy? Did not Miriam say
distinctly that suspicion had been excited in her by the behaviour of
the two when they were in Rome? Why had he not stayed to question his
sister on that point? As always, he had lost his head, missed the
essential, obeyed impulses instead of proceeding on a rational plan.

He worked himself into a sense of being grossly injured. The shame he
had suffered in this morning's interviews was now a mortification. What
had _he_ to do with vulgar rules and vulgar judgments? By what right
did these people pose as his superiors and look contemptuous rebuke?
His anger concentrated itself on Cecily; the violence of jealousy and
the brute instinct of male prerogative plied his brain to frenzy as the
minutes dragged on. Where had she passed the night? How durst she
absent herself from home, and keep him in these tortures of expectation?

At a few minutes past one she came. The library door was ajar, and he
heard her admit herself with a latch-key; she would see his hat and
gloves in the hall. But instead of coming to the library she went
straight upstairs; it was Cecily, for he knew her step. Almost
immediately he followed. She did not stop at the drawing-room; he
followed, and came up with her at the bedroom door. Still she paid no
attention, but went in and took off her hat.

"Where have you been since yesterday afternoon?" he asked, when he had
slammed the door.

Cecily