in the trenches, which while it tortured her, yet filled the blank of his absence.  So Bridget did it all—­corresponded peremptorily with their rather old and incompetent trustee, got all the signatures necessary out of Nelly, and carried the thing through.  Again, on another and smaller occasion, Miss Martin had seen the two sisters confronted with a scandalous overcharge for the carriage of some heavy luggage from Manchester.  Nelly was aghast; but she would have paid the sum demanded like a lamb, if Bridget had not stepped in—­grappled with carter and railway company, while Nelly looked on, helpless but relieved.

It was clear that Nelly’s inborn wish to be liked, her quivering responsiveness, together with a strong dose of natural indolence, made her hate disagreement or friction of any kind.  She was always yielding—­always ready to give in.  But when Bridget in her harsh aggravating way fought things out and won, Nelly was indeed often made miserable, by the ricochet of the wrath roused by Bridget’s methods upon herself; but she generally ended, all the same, by realising that Bridget had done her a service which she could not have done for herself.

Hester Martin frankly thought the sister odious, and pitied the bride for having to live with her.  All the same she often found herself wondering how Nelly would ever manage the practical business of life alone, supposing loneliness fell to her at any time.  But why should it fall to her?—­unless indeed Sarratt were killed in action.  If he survived the war he would make her the best of guides and husbands; she would have children; and her sweetness, her sensitiveness would stiffen under the impact of life to a serviceable toughness.  But meanwhile what could she do—­poor little Ariadne!—­but ’live and be lovely’—­sew and knit, and gather sphagnum moss—­dreaming half her time, and no doubt crying half the night.  What dark circles already round the beautiful eyes!  And how transparent were the girl’s delicate hands!  Miss Martin felt that she was watching a creature on whom love had been acting with a concentrated and stimulating energy, bringing the whole being suddenly and rapidly into flower.  And now, what had been only stimulus and warmth had become strain, and, sometimes, anguish, or fear.  The poor drooping plant could with difficulty maintain itself.

For the moment however, Nelly, in her vast relief, was ready to talk and think of quite ordinary matters.

‘Bridget is in a good temper with me to-day!’ she said presently, looking with a smile at her companion—­’because—­since the telegram came—­I told her I would accept Miss Farrell’s invitation to go and spend a Sunday with them.’

’Well, it might distract you.  But you needn’t expect to get much out of Cicely!’

The old face lit up with its tolerant, half-sarcastic smile.

‘I shall be dreadfully afraid of her!’ said Nelly.

’No need to be.  William will keep her in order.  She is a foolish woman, Cicely, and her own worst enemy, but—­somehow’—­The speaker paused.  She was about to say—­’somehow I am fond of her’—­when she suddenly wondered whether the remark would be true, and stopped herself.