re, though I used to threaten her
with my hoofs, to show I couldn't be bullied by anything of that age.
And there she goes! Ah, well!'

Remembering suddenly, however, that she was sitting there to clear
off Mr. Balladyce, because it was so necessary to keep up with what he
wrote, Cecilia dropped her gaze to the page before her; and instantly,
by uncomfortable chance, not the choice pastures of Mr. Balladyce
appeared, where women might browse at leisure, but a vision of the
little model. She had not thought of her for quite an hour; she had
tired herself out with thinking-not, indeed, of her, but of all that
hinged on her, ever since Stephen had spoken of his talk with Hilary.
Things Hilary had said seemed to Cecilia's delicate and rather timid
soul so ominous, so unlike himself. Was there really going to be
complete disruption between him and Bianca--worse, an ugly scandal?
She, who knew her sister better, perhaps, than anyone, remembered from
schoolroom days Bianca's moody violence when anything had occurred to
wound her--remembered, too, the long fits of brooding that followed.
This affair, which she had tried to persuade herself was exaggerated,
loomed up larger than ever. It was not an isolated squib; it was a
lighted match held to a train of gunpowder. This girl of the people,
coming from who knew where, destined for who knew what--this young, not
very beautiful, not even clever child, with nothing but a sort of queer
haunting naivete' to give her charm--might even be a finger used by
Fate! Cecilia sat very still before that sudden vision of the girl.
There was no staid mare to guard that foal with the dark devotion of her
eye. There was no wise whinnying to answer back those tiny whinnies;
no long look round to watch the little creature nodding to sleep on its
thin trembling legs in the hot sunlight; no ears to prick up and hoofs
to stamp at the approach of other living things. These thoughts passed
through Cecilia's mind and were gone, being too far and pale to stay.
Turning the page which she had not been reading, she heaved a sigh.
Thyme sighed also.

"These worms are fearfully interesting," she said. "Is anybody coming in
this afternoon?"

"Mrs. Tallents Smallpeace was going to bring a young man in, a Signor
Pozzi-Egregio Pozzi, or some such name. She says he is the coming
pianist." Cecilia's face was spiced with faint amusement. Some strain
of her breeding (the Carfax strain, no doubt) still heard such nam