, and endurance has its
limits. The atmosphere of Liberty Hall that prevailed made Honora's
retirement easier.

"I'm sure you won't mind if I go to bed," she said. "I've been so used to
the routine of--of the chickens." She smiled. "And I've spent the day in
the open air."

"Certainly, my dear," said Mrs. Kame; "I know exactly how one feels in
the country. I'm sure it's dreadfully late. We'll have one more rubber,
and then stop."

"Oh, don't stop," replied Honora; "please play as long as you like."

They didn't stop--at least after one more rubber. Honora, as she lay in
the darkness, looking through the open square of her window at the silver
stars, heard their voiced and their laughter floating up at intervals
from below, and the little clock on her mantel had struck the hour of
three when the scraping of chairs announced the breaking up of the party.
And even after that an unconscionable period elapsed, beguiled,
undoubtedly, by anecdotes; spells of silence--when she thought they had
gone--ending in more laughter. Finally there was a crash of breaking
glass, a climax of uproarious mirth, and all was still. . .

She could not have slept much, but the birds were singing when she
finally awoke, the sunlight pouring into her window: And the hands of her
clock pointed to half-past seven when she rang her bell. It was a relief
to breakfast alone, or at least to sip her coffee in solitude. And the
dew was still on the grass as she crossed the wide lawn and made her way
around the lake to the path that entered the woods at its farther end.
She was not tired, yet she would have liked to have lain down under the
green panoply of the forest, where the wild flowers shyly raised sweet
faces to be kissed, and lose herself in the forgetfulness of an eternal
sleep; never to go back again to an Eden contaminated. But when she
lingered the melody of a thrush pierced her through and through. At last
she turned and reluctantly retraced her steps, as one whose hour of
reprieve has expired.

If Mrs. Rindge had a girlish air when fully arrayed for the day, she
looked younger and more angular still in that article of attire known as
a dressing gown. And her eyes, Honora remarked, were peculiarly bright:
glittering, perhaps, would better express the impression they gave; as
though one got a glimpse through them of an inward consuming fire. Her
laughter rang shrill and clear as Honora entered the hall by the rear
door, and the big clock