When he reached the Cathedral, he found her rather cross at having been kept waiting for ten minutes.

“It is very rude of you,” she said; “but I suppose that you were so taken up with the conversation of your friends that you forgot the time.  By the way, who are they? anybody you have told me about?”

In the pauses of selecting the jewellery, Arthur told her all he knew about the Bellamys, and of their connection with the neighbourhood of the Abbey House.  The story caused Mildred to open her brown eyes and look thoughtful.  Just as they came out of the shop, who should they run into but the Bellamys themselves, chaffering for Madeira work with a woman in the street.  Arthur stopped and spoke to them, and then introduced Mrs. Carr, who, after a little conversation, asked them up to lunch.

After this Mildred and Lady Bellamy met a good deal.  The two women interested each other.

One night, when the Bellamys had been about ten days in Madeira, the conversation took a personal turn.  Sir John and Arthur were sitting over their wine (they were dining with Mrs. Carr), Agatha Terry was fast asleep on a sofa, so that Lady Bellamy and Mildred, seated upon lounging-chairs, by a table with a light on it, placed by an open window, were practically alone.

“Oh, by the way, Lady Bellamy,” said Mildred, after a pause, “I believe that you are acquainted with the young lady to whom Mr. Heigham is engaged?” She had meant to say, “to be married,” but the words stuck in her throat.

“Oh, yes, I know her well.”

“I am so glad.  I am quite curious to hear what she is like; one can never put much faith in lovers’ raptures, you know.”

“Do you mean in person or in character?”

“Both.”

“Well, Angela Caresfoot is as lovely a woman as ever I saw, with a noble figure, well-set head, and magnificent eyes and hair.”

Mildred turned a little pale and bit her lips.

“As to her character, I can hardly describe it.  She lives in an atmosphere of her own, an atmosphere that I cannot reach, or, at any rate, cannot breathe.  But if you can imagine a woman whose mind is enriched with learning as profound as that of the first classical scholars of the day, and tinged with an originality all her own; a woman whose faith is as steady as that star, and whose love is deep as the sea and as definite as its tides; who lives to higher ends than those we strive for; whose whole life, indeed, gives one the idea that it is the shadow—­imperfect, perhaps, but still the shadow—­of an immortal light:  then you will get some idea of Angela Caresfoot.  She is a woman intellectually, physically, and spiritually immeasurably above the man on whom she has set her affections.”

“That cannot be,” said Mildred, softly, “like draws to like; she must have found something in him, some better part, some affinity of which you know nothing.”

After this she fell into silence.  Presently Lady Bellamy raised her eyes, just now filled up with the great pupils, and fixed them on Mildred.