n, he is selfish. He is just the man
who would keep his wife hidden away in a lonely little lodging rather
than admit that he had made a _mesalliance_. What I don't understand
is why she consents to be kept out of the way. Just fancy giving up
this beautiful place, these woods and fields, these gardens, that
house for, for--'

'I suppose this woman gives up these things because she loves your
brother. Do you not understand self-sacrifice?'

'Oh yes, if I loved a man.... But I think a woman is silly to allow a
man to cheat and fool her to the top of his bent.'

'What does it matter if she is happy?'

Ethel tossed her head. Then at the end of a long silence she said:
'Would you care to see the house?'

'No, thank you, Miss; I must be getting on. Goodbye.'

'You cannot get back that way, you must return through the
pleasure-grounds. I'll walk with you. A headache kept me at home this
afternoon. The others have gone to a tennis-party.... It is a pity I
was mistaken. I should like to meet the person my brother goes every
day to Branbury to see. I should like to talk with her. My brother
has, I'm afraid, persuaded her that we would not receive her. But this
is not true; we should only be too glad to receive her. I have heard
Father and Mother say so--not to Charles, they dare not speak to him
on the subject, but they have to me.'

'Your brother must have some good reason for keeping his marriage
secret. This woman may have a past.'

'Yes, they say that--but I should not care if I liked her, if I knew
her to be a good woman now.'

To better keep the Major's secret, Mrs Shepherd had given up all
friends, all acquaintance. She had not known a woman-friend for years,
and the affinities of sex drew her to accept the sympathy with which
she was tempted. The reaction of ten years of self-denial surged up
within her, and she felt that she must speak, that her secret was
being dragged from her. Ethel's eyes were fixed upon her--in another
moment she would have spoken, but at that moment Nellie appeared
climbing up the steep bank. 'Is that your little girl? Oh, what a
pretty child!' Then raising her eyes from the child and looking the
mother straight in the face, Ethel said--

'She is like, she is strangely like, Charles.'

Tears glistened in Mrs Shepherd's eyes, and then, no longer doubting
that Mrs Shepherd would break down and in a flow of tears tell the
whole story of her life, Ethel allowed a note of triumph to creep