Holly turned her head, pointed with her little brown fist to the

piano--for to point with a finger was not 'well-brrred'--and said slyly:

"Look at the 'lady in grey,' Gran; isn't she pretty to-day?"

Old Jolyon's heart gave a flutter, and for a second the room was

clouded; then it cleared, and he said with a twinkle:

"Who's been dressing her up?"

"Mam'zelle."

"Hollee! Don't be foolish!"

That prim little Frenchwoman! She hadn't yet got over the music lessons

being taken away from her. That wouldn't help. His little sweet was

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the only friend they had. Well, they were her lessons. And he shouldn't

budge shouldn't budge for anything. He stroked the warm wool on

Balthasar's head, and heard Holly say: "When mother's home, there won't

be any changes, will there? She doesn't like strangers, you know."

The child's words seemed to bring the chilly atmosphere of opposition

about old Jolyon, and disclose all the menace to his new-found freedom.

Ah! He would have to resign himself to being an old man at the mercy of

care and love, or fight to keep this new and prized companionship;

and to fight tired him to death. But his thin, worn face hardened into

resolution till it appeared all Jaw. This was his house, and his affair;

he should not budge! He looked at his watch, old and thin like himself;

he had owned it fifty years. Past four already! And kissing the top of

Holly's head in passing, he went down to the hall. He wanted to get

hold of her before she went up to give her lesson. At the first sound of

wheels he stepped out into the porch, and saw at once that the victoria

was empty.

"The train's in, sir; but the lady 'asn't come."

Old Jolyon gave him a sharp upward look, his eyes seemed to push away

that fat chap's curiosity, and defy him to see the bitter disappointment

he was feeling.

"Very well," he said, and turned back into the house. He went to his

study and sat down, quivering like a leaf. What did this mean? She might

have lost her train, but he knew well enough she hadn't. 'Good-bye, dear

Uncle Jolyon.' Why 'Good-bye' and not 'Good-night'? And that hand of

hers lingering in the air. And her kiss. What did it mean? Vehement

alarm and irritation took possession of him. He got up and began to pace

the Turkey carpet, between window and wall. She was going to give him

up! He felt it for certain--and he defenceless. An old man wanting to

look on beauty! It was ridiculous! Age closed his mouth, paralysed his

power to fight. He had no right to what was warm and living, no right to

anything but memories and sorrow. He could not plead with her; even

an old man has his dignity. Defenceless! For an hour, lost to bodily

fatigue, he paced up and down, past the bowl of carnations he had

plucked, which mocked him with its scent. Of all things hard to bear,

the prostration of will-power is hardest, for one who has always had his

way. Nature had got him in its net, and like an unhappy fish he turned

and swam at the meshes, here and there, found no hole, no breaking

point. They brought him tea at five o'clock, and a letter. For a moment

hope beat up in him. He cut the envelope with the butter knife, and

read:




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