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I fancy the fault was as much Constance's as Mr. Yorke's, but I do not know the exact particulars. He did not like it; he thought, I believe, that to marry a sister of Arthur's would affect his own honour or she thought it. Anyway, they parted."
And at last, over the brow of Toft End, he saw suddenly the Five Towns a- twinkle on their little hills down in the vast amphitheatre. And one of those lamps was Constance's lamp one, somewhere. He lived, then. He entered into the shadow of nature. The mysteries made him solemn. What! A boneshaker, his cousin, and then this! "Well, I'm damned!
There was something so bright, so purely intellectual about Constance's character, that at times, when brought into constant intercourse with her, you longed for some human weakness some wild, warm error on which to repose. Dazzling and fair as snow, like snow your eye ached to gaze upon her.
But her resentment against the latter was exceeded only by Mignon's dislike for the gentle girl. Thus the common bond of hatred held them together. She had only to mention Constance's name and Mignon would rise to the bait with torrential anger. This in itself was an unfailing solace to Mary. To-night, however, her conscience troubled her.
She could hardly have gone through them but for Sister Constance's kindness, and that rocking process from Felix, which she and he called 'being his great baby. And now, when her mother looked up at her, held out a hand, and called her Papa's dear little Cherry, drawing her to lay her cheek by hers on the pillow, there was much soothing in it, though therewith the little girl felt a painful doubt and longing to know whether her mother knew what was passing; and even while perfectly aware that she must not be talked to nor disturbed, was half grieved, half angry, at her dropping off into a slumber, and awakening only upon little Stella's behalf.
Hewitt was right in calling Aunt Flora sweet, and Uncle Charles was a big, jolly, ruddy-faced old man with a hearty manner. He shook Constance's hand until it ached, threw more pine knots in the fire and told her he wished it would rain every night if it rained down a nice little girl like her. She found herself strangely attracted to the old couple.
Thar's somethin' fishy, too, about his havin' that book, an' knowin' about them letters on that rock. It's mighty curious, an' I can't savvy it at all." During the days that followed, Constance's mind was seriously perplexed. She longed to go to the old chief, and question him about the picture, but dreaded the undertaking, knowing nothing of the native language.
After that Constance had been forgotten by the world of Bursley, which could pay small heed to sciatical old ladies confined to sofas and firesides. She was in acute pain, as Mary could see when at intervals she hovered round her. Assuredly it was one of Constance's bad days, one of those days on which she felt that the tide of life had left her stranded in utter neglect.
Moreover, the evenings entertainment could not be given up and Gillian was despatched to summon the eager assistants, while Aunt Jane repeated her assurances that Lady Merrifield perfectly understood Miss Hacket's ignorance of the doings in Constance's room listening patiently even when the tender-hearted woman began to excuse her sister for having accepted Dolores's lamentations at being cut off from her so. called uncle.
There was a deeper horror in those mocking shapes than in the most loathsome phantasms of corporeal corruption that feverish dreams ever called up from the grave-yard. If his lips were unworthy, months ago, to touch Constance's cheek or hand, what were they now? He ground his teeth in the bitterness of self-condemnation.
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