d head bowed, by the half hour together. If
personal joy is dead past resurrection, there is bitter satisfaction in
realising to the full personal pain. The room was duly swept, dusted,
casements set open to welcome breeze and sunshine, fires lighted in the
grate. But no one ever sat there. It knew no cheerfulness of social
intercourse. The crimson curtains and covers had become faded. They
were not renewed. The furniture, save for the absence of the narrow
bed, stood in precisely the same order as on the night when Sir Richard
Calmady died. It was pushed back against the walls. And in the wide
empty way between the two doors, Katherine paced, saturating all her
being with thoughts of that which was, and must remain, wholly and
inalienably her own--namely, her immense distress.

And in this she took the more comfort, because something else, until
now appearing wholly her own, was slipping a little away from her.
Dickie's health had improved notably in the last few weeks. His
listlessness had vanished, while his cheeks showed a wholesome warmth
of colour. But his cry was ever. "Mother, Uncle Roger's going to such a
place. He says he'll take me. I can go, can't I?" Or, "Mother, Mary's
going to do such a thing. She says she'll show me how. She may, mayn't
she?" And Katherine's answer was always "Yes." She grudged the boy none
of his new-found pleasures, rejoiced indeed to see him interested and
gay. Yet to watch the new broom, which sweeps so clean, is rarely
exhilarating to those that have swept diligently with the old one. The
nest had held her precious fledgling so safely till now; and this
fluttering of wings, eager for flight, troubled her somewhat. Not only
was Dickie's readiness to be away from her a trifle hard to bear; but
she knew that disappointment, of a certainty, lay in wait for him, and
that each effort towards wider action would but reveal to him how
circumscribed his powers actually were.

Meanwhile, however, Richard enjoyed himself recklessly, almost
feverishly, in the attempt to disprove the teaching of that ugly dream,
and keep truth at bay. There had been further drives, and the
excitement of witnessing a forest fire--only too frequent in the
Brockhurst country when the sap is up, and the easterly wind and May
sun have scorched all moisture from the surface of the moorland. He and
Mary had bumped over fir roots and scuttled down bridle-paths in the
pony-carriage, to avoid the rush of flame and smoke;