ll the awful feelings man or woman can know, she
experienced the worst: She could not cry!

At this most bitter and deserted moment of her life, she felt strangely
calm, foreseeing clearly, exactly; what she must do, and where go.
Quickly it must be done, or it would never be done! Quickly! And without
fuss! She put some things together, sent the maid out for a cab, and sat
down to write.

She must do and say nothing that could excite him, and bring back his
illness. Let it all be sober, reasonable! It would be easy to let him
know where she was going, to write a letter that would bring him flying
after her. But to write the calm, reasonable words that would keep him
waiting and thinking, till he never again came to her, broke her heart.

When she had finished and sealed the letter, she sat motionless with a
numb feeling in hands and brain, trying to realize what she had next to
do. To go, and that was all!

Her trunks had been taken down already. She chose the little hat that he
liked her best in, and over it fastened her thickest veil. Then, putting
on her travelling coat and gloves, she looked in the long mirror, and
seeing that there was nothing more to keep her, lifted her dressing bag,
and went down.

Over on the embankment a child was crying; and the passionate screaming
sound, broken by the gulping of tears, made her cover her lips, as
though she had heard her own escaped soul wailing out there.

She leaned out of the cab to say to the maid:

"Go and comfort that crying, Ella."

Only when she was alone in the train, secure from all eyes, did she give
way to desperate weeping. The white smoke rolling past the windows was
not more evanescent than her joy had been. For she had no illusions--it
was over! From first to last--not quite a year! But even at this moment,
not for all the world would she have been without her love, gone to its
grave, like a dead child that evermore would be touching her breast with
its wistful fingers.

CHAPTER XXVII

Barbara returning from her visit to Courtier's deserted rooms, was met
at Valleys House with the message: Would she please go at once to Lady
Casterley?

When, in obedience, she reached Ravensham, she found her grandmother
and Lord-Dennis in the white room. They were standing by one of the tall
windows, apparently contemplating the view. They turned indeed at sound
of Barbara's approach, but neither of them spoke or nodded. Not having
seen her grandfather