* * * * *

When Gwen awoke six hours after, she had the haziest recollections of
the night. How it had come about that she found herself in another room,
warmly covered up, and pillowed on luxury itself, with a smell of
lavender in it that alone was bliss, she could infer from Ruth Thrale's
report. This went to show that when Ruth and Granny Marrable came into
the room at about six, they found her ladyship undisguisedly asleep
beside old Maisie; and when she half woke, persuaded her away to more
comfortable quarters. She had no distinct memory of details, but found
them easy of belief, told by eyewitnesses.

How was the dear old soul herself? Had she slept sound, or been roused
again by nightmares? Well--she had certainly done better than on the
previous afternoon and evening, after the receipt of that letter. Thus
Granny Marrable, in conference with her ladyship at the isolated
breakfast of the latter. Ruth, to whom the contents of the letter were
still unknown, was keeping guard by her mother.

"We put it all down to your ladyship," said the Granny, with grave
truthfulness--not a trace of flattery. "She can never tire of telling
the good it does her to see you." This was the nearest she could go,
without personality, to a hint at the effect the sheer beauty of her
hearer had on the common object of their anxiety.

Gwen knew perfectly well what she meant. She was used to this sort of
thing. "She likes my hair," said she, to lubricate the talk; and gave
the mass of unparalleled gold an illustrative shake. Then, to steer the
ship into less perilous, more impersonal waters:--"I must have another
of those delightful little hot rolls, if I die for it. Mr. Torrens's
mother--him I brought here, you know; he's got a mother--says new bread
at breakfast is sudden death. _I_ don't care!"

The Granny was fain to soften any implied doubt of a County Magnate's
infallibility, even when uttered by one still greater. "A many," said
she, "do not find them unwholesome." This left the question pleasantly
open. But she was at a loss to express something she wanted to say. It
_is_ difficult to tell your guest, however surpassingly beautiful, that
she has been mistaken for an Angel, even when the mistake has been made
by failing powers or delirium, or both together. Yet that was what
Granny Marrable's perfect truthfulness and literal thought were hanging
fire over. Old Maisie had said to her, in speech as pa