e it. He did not stick out at the top. Mr.
Pellew remained on the shady terrace, to end up his cigar. He was a
little disquieted by the recollection of his very last words, which
remembered themselves on his tongue-tip as a key remembers itself in
one's hand, when one has forgotten if one really locked that box. Why,
though, should he not say to a maiden lady of a certain age--these are
the words he thought in--that it was very nice on this terrace? Why not
indeed? But that wasn't exactly the question. What he had really said
was that it _had been_ very nice on this terrace. All the difference!

Miss Dickenson was soon aware what the "they" she had referred to was
going to do, and offered to accompany it. The Countess and her daughter
and others were the owners of the voices she could hear outside the
drawing-room door when at liberty to expand, after a crush in half a
French window that opened on the terrace. Her ladyship the Countess was
as completely upset as her husband's ancestry permitted--quite white
and almost crying, only not prepared to admit it. "Oh, Constance dear,"
said she. "Are you there? You are always so sensible. But isn't this
awful?"

Aunt Constance perceived the necessity for a sympathetic spurt. She had
been taking it too easily, evidently. She was equal to the occasion,
responding with effusion that it was "so dreadful that she could think
of nothing else!" Which wasn't true, for the moment before she had been
collating the Hon. Percival's remarks and analysing the last one. Not
that she was an unfeeling person--only more like everyone else than
everyone else may be inclined to admit.

CHAPTER XII

HOW THE COUNTESS AND HER DAUGHTER WALKED OVER TO THE VERDERER'S
HALL. HOW ACHILLES KNEW BETTER THAN THE DOCTORS. THE ACCIDENT WAS
NOT A FATAL ACCIDENT. AN OLD GENERAL WHO MADE A POOR FIGURE AS A
CORPSE. HOW THE WOUNDED MAN'S FATHER AND SISTER CAME, AND HOW HE
HIMSELF WAS TO BE CARRIED TO THE TOWERS

There was no need for a reason why Lady Gwendolen and her mother should
take the first opportunity of walking over to the Lodge, where this man
lay either dead or dying; but one presented itself to the Countess, as
an addendum to others less defined. "We ought to go," said she, "if only
for poor old Stephen's sake. The old man will be quite off his head with
grief. And it was such an absolute accident."

This was on the way, walking over the grassland. Aunt Constance fe