her, that her autocratic
friend's faith in Dyce Lashmar as a "coming man" was unaffected and
sturdy. She mused upon this. Rivenoak had often supplied entertainment
to her sportive mind; now, as shadows of night were gathering over it,
there seemed to be preparing in this corner of the human stage a
spectacle of unforeseen piquancy.

Also with Mr. Kerchever the old lady had had an afternoon's talk. Her
emotion being now more under command, she could listen to the
solicitor's advice, which dissuaded from abrupt action with reference
to Miss Tomalin. Mr. Kerchever thought it would be unwise to reveal all
the interest she felt in this late-discovered representative of her
family. Had he not better write to Mr. Rooke, saying that his client, a
widowed lady living at her country house, hoped to have the pleasure of
making her young relative's acquaintance, and would shortly address a
letter to Miss Tomalin? This course finally met with Lady Ogram's
approval; she agreed to let a week pass before taking the next step.

Whatever the ultimate effect of her joyous agitation, for the present
it seemed to do her nothing but good. She walked with lighter step,
bore herself as though she had thrown off years, and, all through the
evening, was a marvel of untiring graciousness and cordiality. The
reaction came when she found herself at liberty to feel weary, but no
eye save that of the confidential maid beheld her collapse. Even whilst
being undressed like a helpless infant, the old lady did not lose her
temper. Even whilst gulping an unpleasant draught, well aware that she
was not likely to sleep until dawn, if then, she smiled at her
thoughts. The maid wondered what it all meant.

Dyce Lashmar was abundantly satisfied with himself. "Am I doing it
well?" he quietly asked of Constance, somewhere about ten o'clock, and
on receiving the reply, "Very well," he gave his friend a more
benignant smile than he had bestowed upon her since the old days of
semi-sentimental intimacy. He would much have liked to talk over the
evening with her before he went to bed; as that was impossible, he
pressed her hand very warmly at leave-taking, looking her steadily in
the eyes, and said in a low voice.

"To-morrow."

He was greatly satisfied with himself, and, in consequence, felt
overflowing with kindliness towards all the sons and daughters of men.
One by one he reviewed the persons with whom he had conversed. How
pleasant they were! How sensible