own; the
hidden soul had looked out. And in his deep emotion, he was very
naturally conscious of a new rush of affection and gratitude towards his
old playfellow and friend. The thought of her would be for ever connected
in his mind with the efforts and discoveries of the agitating days
through which--with such intensity--they had both been living. When he
remembered that wonder-look in his son's, eyes, he would always see
Cynthia bending over the child, no longer the mere agreeable and
well-dressed woman of the world, but, to him, the embodiment of a
heavenly pity, "making all things new."

Cynthia's spirits danced as she walked beside him. There was in her a
joyous, if still wavering certainty that through the child, her hold upon
Philip, whether he spoke sooner or later, was now secure. But she was
still jealous of Helena. It had needed the moral and practical upheaval
caused by the reappearance and death of Anna, to drive Helena from Philip
and Beechmark; and if Helena--enchanting and incalculable as ever, even
in her tamer mood--were presently to resume her life in Philip's house,
no one could expect the Fates to intervene again so kindly. Georgina
might be certain that in Buntingford's case the woman of forty had
nothing to fear from the girl of nineteen. Cynthia was by no means so
certain; and she shivered at the risks to come.

For it was soon evident that the question of his ward's immediate future
was now much on Philip's mind. He complained that Helena wrote so little,
and that he had not yet heard from Geoffrey since the week-end he was to
spend in Wales. Mrs. Friend reported indeed in good spirits. But
obviously, whatever the quarters might be, Helena could not stay there
indefinitely.

"Of course I suggested the London house to her at once--with Mrs.
Friend for chaperon. But she didn't take to it. This week I must go
back to my Admiralty work. But we can't take the boy to London, and I
intended to come back here every night. We mustn't put upon you much
longer, my dear Cynthia!"

The colour rushed to Cynthia's face.

"You are going to take him away?" she said, with a look of consternation.

"Mustn't I bring him home, some time?" was his half-embarrassed reply.

"But not yet! And how would it suit--with week-ends and dances for
Helena?"

"It wouldn't suit at all," he said, perplexed--"though Helena seems to
have thrown over dancing for the present."

"That won't last long!"

He laughed. "I am