Upon the unconscious
face it was plainly inscribed that this lady would stand against telling
to the last ditch. Somehow the knowledge brought the daughter no
comfort....

And now that she stopped to consider in calm security, what, really, if
she did send Vivian a little note just before she sailed, authorizing
him to tell? What had she, of all people, to fear from the clacking
tattle of a few old cats? Suppose, to-morrow, she calmly said to Hugo
and mamma, "I've felt all along that I did him an injustice, and now
that I know he's so unhappy, I want to set it straight." What, really,
could they say that would be so bad? If there was a price for telling,
it appeared now that there was a price also for not telling.

Minutes passed ...

And then at the shake, Mrs. Heth stirred, turned, rolled a little, and
opened her eyes with a start and a blink.

"I must have dropped asleep," said she.

"No!" said Cally; and she gave a sudden gay burst of laughter.

"I don't see anything so funny in that," said Mrs. Heth, yawning and
sitting up. "What time is it?"

"I think it's a perfect scream, and it's nearly seven, and Hugo will be
here at quarter past, punctually. _Now_ will you fly?"

"You might have waked me a little earlier. Good gracious!... How long
have you been in? Anything happen while I napped?"

"Not a single, solitary, blessed thing.... There you are!--Easy does
it!"

"I'll be dressed long before you are now," was the maternal retort,
accompanied by a long stretch.

And, though unchallenged, she was as good as her word. Highly efficient
at the toilet as elsewhere, she required small assistance from Flora,
whom she dispatched to tidy up the sitting-room instead. The good little
lady was armed cap-a-pie by seven-fifteen, at which time a glance into
Carlisle's room revealed much backwardness there, not concealed by the
appearances of haste. Hugo would have to wait, that was clear; and just
as it was clear, up Mr. Canning's name came skipping from the office.

In the tidied-up sitting-room Mrs. Heth entertained her distinguished
son-to-be, during the little delay. She always enjoyed a good talk with
Hugo. He was her pledge of a well-spent life, her Order of Merit, her
V.C. and Star and Garter, rolled together in a single godlike figure.
She beamed upon him, tugging at white gloves half a size too small.
Canning tapped a well-shod foot with his walking-stick, and wished
for his love.

The wish grew by what it