red now. The
girl's eyes, just as she was turning away toward her mother, fell upon
them, and she stopped, overtaken by memory. These were Hugo's flowers,
his last gift to her. She herself had placed them here, that eventful
afternoon five days ago, and not thought of them again till this
moment.... Was that, which seemed like an echo from some previous life,
only five days ago?

She stood looking down at the mass of sere bloom, touched the withered
tops lingeringly with her finger-tips. It was her tribute to the dead,
no more. The departed knight had dropped backward out of her heart with
a speed and smoothness which showed that he had, indeed, had small
foothold there since May. Less and less had Cally felt any impulse to
judge or blame Hugo, impute "badness" to him; it was she who had
changed, and never he. But how, why?... 'Was it something done,
something said?' Strange to remember now the hurried journey to the
Beach last year, that afternoon in Willie Kerr's apartment....

"Throw out those flowers in the window, Flora.... They've been faded for
days."

She went down the stairs in that inner state which her country had once
found unendurable: she was half slave and half free. And on the stairs
she forgot Hugo entirely. She was thinking, in her loneliness and
depression, of Vivian, who had pledged his help to her; wondering if she
could ask him to come and give her his help now,--at four o'clock this
afternoon, perhaps, when the house would be quiet and her mother
napping. Her wish was to talk with him, to show him all her difficulty,
before she saw her father. She felt that she could tell anything to Mr.
V.V. now....

Cally tapped respectfully upon a closed door, and said "Mamma?" Bidden
to enter by the strong voice within, she braced herself a little, and
opened the door....

Mrs. Heth sat toward the bay-window of a spacious bedroom, dignified by
an alcove and bright but for the half-drawn shades. It was observed that
she wore her second-best robe de chambre, and was otherwise not dressed
for the inspection of the best people. So indifferently was her fine
hair caught up atop her head that the round purplish spot on her temple
was left plainly visible: always an ominous sign....

"Good morning, mamma. I hope you're feeling better to-day?"

"Physically, I am quite well," said her mother, only half turning her
head.

"Oh, I'm glad.... It's such a beautiful day. I hoped you would feel like
going out for a