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"And I thought it it might save you pain." "Just like you!" Diana stooped to kiss her hand. "That's what your headache meant! Well, but now ought I ought I to do it?" She clasped her hands round her knees and swayed backward and forward pondering with a rather sombre brow. Mrs. Colwood's expression was hidden in the darkness of the big chair. " Always supposing I can do it," resumed Diana.

Colwood's hand, went swaying across the hall and into the drawing-room. There she closed the door, and looked into Mrs. Colwood's eyes. Muriel saw a face in which bloom and first youth were forever dead, though in its delicate features horror was still beautiful. She threw her arms round the girl, weeping. But Diana put her aside. She walked to a chair, and sat down.

Colwood's husband, a young Indian Civil servant, had died of fever and lung mischief, on his way to England for a long sick leave and where the little widow had touched the hearts of all who came in contact with her. Diana thought, with one of her ready compunctions, that she had not been expansive enough the night before. She ran down-stairs, determined to make Mrs. Colwood feel at home at once.

"But then, you see, we'll give her advantages!" cried Diana, throwing herself down at Mrs. Colwood's feet, and beginning to plan aloud. "You know if she will only stay with us, we can easily have people down from London for lessons. And she can have the green bedroom over the dining-room can't she? and the library to practise in.

Then the smile within broke out, flooding eyes and lips. Under the influence of it, Mrs. Colwood's small tear-stained face passed through a quick instinctive change. She, too, smiled as though she could not help it; then she bent forward and kissed Diana. "Is it all right?" The peculiar eagerness in the tone struck Diana. She returned the kiss, a little wistfully. "Were you so anxious about me?

Heretofore Diana had only appeared in black, the strict black which French dressmakers understand, for it was little more than a year since her father's death. The thought of seeing her in white stirred Mrs. Colwood's expectations. Tallyn Hall was eight miles from Beechcote. The ladies were to drive, but in order to show Mrs.

A passion for the work of her race beyond these narrow seas a passion of sympathy, which was also a passion of antagonism, since every phase of that work, according to Miss Mallory, had been dogged by the hate and calumny of base minds expressed itself through her charming mouth, with a quite astonishing fluency. Mrs. Colwood's mind moved uneasily.

Diana looked round rather wistfully for Mrs. Colwood as she re-entered the room; but that lady had many letters to write. Marsham noticed Mrs. Colwood's retreat with a thrill of pleasure. Yet even now he had no immediate declaration in his mind. The course that he had marked out for himself had been exactly followed. There had been no "hurrying it."

Colwood seemed to see that there were remembrances connected with her father far too poignant to be touched in speech. At tea-time Captain Roughsedge appeared. Mrs. Colwood's first impression of his good manners and good looks was confirmed. But his conversation could not be said to flow: and in endeavoring to entertain him the two ladies fought a rather uphill fight.

"A thousand pounds!" cried Diana, in amazement. "But then why why does she have so many frocks and play cards for money and bet on races?" She threw her arms round Mrs. Colwood's knees impetuously. Muriel's small hand smoothed back the girl's hair, timidly yet eagerly. "I suppose that's the way they've been brought up." "A thousand pounds! And does she expect me to provide it?"