me
compromise with her strict sense of honour.

Marian wrote to Dora Milvain, telling her what had happened. But she
refrained from visiting her friends.

Each night found her more restless, each morning less able to employ
herself. She shut herself in the study merely to be alone with her
thoughts, to be able to walk backwards and forwards, or sit for hours in
feverish reverie. From her father came no news. Her mother was suffering
dreadfully from suspense, and often had eyes red with weeping. Absorbed
in her own hopes and fears, whilst every hour harassed her more
intolerably, Marian was unable to play the part of an encourager; she
had never known such exclusiveness of self-occupation.

Yule's return was unannounced. Early in the afternoon, when he had been
absent five days, he entered the house, deposited his travelling-bag in
the passage, and went upstairs. Marian had come out of the study just
in time to see him up on the first landing; at the same moment Mrs Yule
ascended from the kitchen.

'Wasn't that father?'

'Yes, he has gone up.'

'Did he say anything?'

Marian shook her head. They looked at the travelling-bag, then went into
the parlour and waited in silence for more than a quarter of an hour.
Yule's foot was heard on the stairs; he came down slowly, paused in the
passage, entered the parlour with his usual grave, cold countenance.

CHAPTER XXII. THE LEGATEES

Each day Jasper came to inquire of his sisters if they had news from
Wattleborough or from Marian Yule. He exhibited no impatience, spoke of
the matter in a disinterested tone; still, he came daily.

One afternoon he found Dora working alone. Maud, he was told, had gone
to lunch at Mrs Lane's.

'So soon again? She's getting very thick with those people. And why
don't they ask you?'

'Maud has told them that I don't care to go out.'

'It's all very well, but she mustn't neglect her work. Did she write
anything last night or this morning?'

Dora bit the end of her pen and shook her head.

'Why not?'

'The invitation came about five o'clock, and it seemed to unsettle her.'

'Precisely. That's what I'm afraid of. She isn't the kind of girl to
stick at work if people begin to send her invitations. But I tell you
what it is, you must talk seriously to her; she has to get her living,
you know. Mrs Lane and her set are not likely to be much use, that's the
worst of it; they'll merely waste her time, and make her discontented.'

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