ed in her favour, and Bice would have all the
advantage, without any of the disadvantage, of her patroness' position,
such as it was. This was so important that she was quite fortified
against any pricks of offence, or intrusive consciousness that she was
less welcome than might have been desired. And in the end of January,
when the entire household at the Hall had begun to be anxious to make
sure of her departure, an event occurred which strengthened all her
resolutions in this respect, and made her more and more determined,
whatever might be the result, to cling to her present associations and
shelter.

This was the arrival of a visitor, very unexpected and unthought of, who
came in one afternoon after the daily drive, often a somewhat dull
performance, which Lucy, when there was nothing more amusing to do,
dutifully took with her visitor. Madame di Forno-Populo was reclining in
the easiest of chairs after the fatigue of this expedition. There had
been a fresh wind, and notwithstanding a number of veils, her delicate
complexion had been caught by the keen touch of the breeze. Her cheeks
burned, she declared, as she held up a screen to shield her from the
glow of the fire. The waning afternoon light from the tall window behind
threw her beautiful face into shadow, but she was undeniably the most
important person in the tranquil domestic scene, occupying the central
position, so that it was not wonderful that the new comer suddenly
ushered in, who was somewhat timid and confused, and advanced with the
hesitating step of a stranger, should without any doubt have addressed
himself to her as the mistress of the house. Lucy, little and young, who
was moving about the room, with her light step and in the simple dress
of a girl, appeared to Mr. Churchill, who had many daughters of his own,
to be (no doubt) the eldest, the mother's companion. He came in with a
slightly embarrassed air and manner. He was a man beyond middle age,
gray haired, stooping, with the deprecating look of one who had been
obliged in many ways to propitiate fate in the shape of superiors,
officials, creditors, all sorts of alien forces. He came up with his
hesitating step to the Contessa's chair. "Madam," he said, with a voice
which had a tremor in it, "my name will partly tell you the confused
feelings that I don't know how to express. I am come in a kind of
bewilderment, scarcely able to believe that what I have heard is
true----"

The Contessa gazed