ger growth, of a braver spirit, than
Angela or than her aunts or than Uncle Percival, who had missed life
also. They had been defeated, but was it not because they had lacked in
themselves the courage to attain?

The next morning, after she had had her tea and toast in her room, she
went, as was her custom, into Angela's chamber. Early as it was, Mrs.
Payne had already apparelled herself in her paint and powder and driven
down. Seen by the morning sunlight, her smeared face with its brilliant
artificial smile revealed a pathos which was rendered more acute by its
effect of playful grotesqueness. She was like a faded and decrepit
actress who, fired by the unconquerable spirit of her art, forces her
wrinkled visage to ape the romantic ecstasies of passion. Age which is
beautiful only when it has become expressive of repose--of serene
renouncement--showed to Laura's eyes only as a ghastly and comic
travesty of youth.

Angela was having her breakfast at a little table by the window, and at
Laura's entrance she turned to her with a sigh of evident relief.

"Rosa has come down to speak to you particularly," she explained. "There
is something she has very heavily on her mind."

Mrs. Payne had wheeled herself about at the same instant; and Laura,
after regarding her uncertainly for a moment, impressed a light caress
upon her outstretched jewelled fingers.

"I didn't sleep a wink, my dear," began the old lady in her most
conciliatory tones, "not a blessed wink after Horace told me."

The questioning stare in Laura's face had the effect of jerking her up
so hurriedly that the words seemed to trip and stumble upon her lips.

"I might have had it from yourself, of course," she added with an
aggrieved contortion of her features, "but as I was just telling Angela,
I would not for worlds intrude upon your confidence."

"But what has he told you?" asked Laura, curiously, "and what, after
all, did I tell Uncle Horace?"

Mrs. Payne settled herself comfortably back in her chair, and, picking
up a bit of Angela's toast from the tray, nibbled abstractedly at the
crust.

"What under heaven would he have told me but the one thing?" she
demanded. "Mr. Wilberforce has at last proposed."

"At last!" echoed Laura, breaking into a laugh of unaffected merriment.
"Well, he _was_ long about it!"

At the words Angela leaned toward her, stretching out her frail hands in
a pleading gesture.

"Don't marry, Laura," she entreated; "don't--d