lterations, which
stands back from Clerke's Green, about a hundred yards short of
Appleyard, the saddler's shop at Farley Row. He came in late. Unusual
silence held him during dinner. And Lady Calmady took herself to task,
reproaching herself with selfishness. Honoria was very dear to her, and
so, only too probably, she had overrated the friendliness of Dickie's
attitude towards the young lady. But they had seemed to get on so
extremely well in the spring, and very fairly well at Whitsuntide! Yet,
perhaps, in that, as in so much else, Richard put a constraint upon
himself, obeying conscience rather than inclination. Katherine was
perturbed. Nor had her perturbations suffered diminution yesterday,
upon Miss St. Quentin's arrival. Richard remained unexpansive. To-day,
however, matters had improved. Something--possibly the thunderstorm--seemed
to have thawed his coldness, broken up his reticence of manner. Therefore
Katherine gave thanks and moved with a lighter heart.

As for Miss St. Quentin herself, an innate gladsomeness pervaded her
aspect not easy to resist. Lady Calmady had been sensible of it when
the young lady first greeted her that morning. It remained by her now,
as she stood after luncheon at one of the open windows, watching the
up-rolling thunder-cloud, the spattering raindrops, the quaintly solemn
behaviour of the stalking, striding rooks. Honoria was easily
entertained to-day. She felt well-disposed towards every living
creature. And the rooks diverted her extremely. Profanely they reminded
her of certain archiepiscopal garden-parties, with this improvement on
the human variant, that here wives and daughters also were condemned to
decent sables instead of being at liberty to array themselves according
to self-invented canons of remarkably defective taste. But, though
diverted, it must be owned she gave her attention the more closely to
all that outward drama of storm and rain and to the antics of the
rooks, because she was very conscious of the fact that Richard Calmady
had followed her and his mother into the red drawing-room, and it hurt
her--though she had now, of necessity, witnessed it many times--it
hurt, it still very shrewdly distressed her, to see him walk. As she
heard the soft thud and shuffle of his onward progress, followed by the
little clatter of the crutches as he laid them upon the floor beside
his chair, the brightness died out of Honoria's face. She registered
sharp annoyance against her