it,"--he lowered
his voice--"before we shall see the bearing of all this?"

Cynthia assented, rather coldly; and when she and her sister were walking
through the moonlit path leading to the cottage, her silence was still
marked, whereas Georgina in her grim way was excited and eager to talk.

The truth was that Cynthia was not only agitated by the news of the
evening. She was hurt--bitterly hurt. Could not Buntingford have spared
her a word in private? She was his kinswoman, his old and particular
friend, neglectful as he had shown himself during the war. Had he not
only a few weeks before come to ask her help with the trouble-some girl
whose charge he had assumed? She had been no good, she knew. Helena had
not been ready to make friends; and Cynthia's correctness had always been
repelled by the reckless note in Helena. Yet she had done her best on
that and other occasions and she had been rewarded by being treated in
this most critical, most agitated moment like any other of Buntingford's
week-end guests. Not a special message even--just the news that everybody
might now know, and--Julian Horne to see them off! Yet Helena had been
sent for at once. Helena had been closeted with Philip for half an hour.
No doubt he had a special responsibility towards her. But what use could
she possibly be? Whereas Cynthia felt herself the practical, experienced
woman, able to give an old friend any help he might want in a grave
emergency.

"Of course we must all hope she will die--and die quickly!" said Lady
Georgina, with energy, after some remarks to which Cynthia paid small
attention. "It would be the only sensible course for Providence--after
making such a terrible mistake."

"Is there any idea of her dying?" Cynthia looked down upon her sister
with astonishment. "Geoffrey didn't say so."

"He said she was 'very ill,' and from her conduct she must be crazy. So
there's hope."

"You mean, for Philip?"

"For the world in general," said Georgina, cautiously, with an unnoticed
glance at her companion. "But of course Philip has only himself to blame.
Why did he marry such a woman?"

"She may have been very beautiful--or charming--you don't know."

Lady Georgina shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, of course there must have been something to bait the hook! But
when a man marries out of his own class, unless the woman dies, the man
goes to pieces."

"Philip has not gone to pieces!" cried Cynthia indignantly.

"Because she remov