-the last afternoon arrived, and with a sinking
heart Norah went to meet Rex in the drawing-room for the last time for
long years to come.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

GOOD BYE!

It was a gloomy afternoon. The rain was felling in a persistent
drizzle; the clouds were low and grey. It seemed as if nature itself
shared in the depression which settled on the little party gathered
together in the drawing-room at Cloudsdale. What merry times they had
spent together in this room! What cosy chats there had been round the
fireside in winter! what refreshing hours of rest in summer, when the
sun blinds were lowered, and the windows stood open to the green lawn!
And now they were all over. A melancholy feeling of "last time" settled
on each of the beholders as they looked at Lettice with the betrothal
ring sparkling on her finger, at Rex, so tall and man-like in his
travelling suit of rough grey tweed. To make matters worse, the curate
had taken this opportunity to pay a call, so that they were not even
alone, and the rain prevented an adjournment to the garden. Norah sat
at the extreme end of the room from Rex, trifling with her teacup and
spoon, with a feeling of such helpless misery as she had never known
before in the course of her short life. The Mouse cried openly, Miss
Briggs whisked her handkerchief out of her pocket at intervals of every
few minutes and Hilary's forced cheerfulness was hardly less depressing.
As for Rex himself, he was perfectly quiet and composed, but his voice
had a hard, metallic ring, and his face looked drawn and old. Lettice
could not bear to look at him, for it seemed to her that there was more
evidence of suffering in his set composure than in all the demonstrative
grief of his companions.

Conversation languished over tea, and at last Hilary suggested music as
a last resort. If there were music there would be a chance of moving
about, and putting an end to these death-like pauses, and Rex would also
have an opportunity of speaking to Norah, which no doubt he was longing
to do; but so soon as music was suggested, the curate begged eagerly to
hear Miss Norah play, and she rose to get her violin with the usual
ready acquiescence. Norah had made immense strides during the three
last years, and was now a performer of no mean attainments. It was
always a treat to hear her play, and this afternoon the wailing notes
seemed to have an added tenderness and longing. Lettice bit her lips to
k