Meanwhile Mrs. Colwood looked a little pale, and confessed to a headache.  Diana was pleased, however, to see that she and Fanny were getting on better than had seemed to be probable in the morning.  Fanny wished—­nay, was resolved—­to be entertained and amused, Mrs. Colwood threw herself with new zest into the various plans Diana had made for her cousin.  There was to be a luncheon-party, an afternoon tea, and so forth.  Only Diana, pricked by a new mistrust, said nothing in public about an engagement she had (to spend a Saturday-to-Monday with Lady Lucy at Tallyn three weeks later), though she and Muriel made anxious plans as to what could be done to amuse Fanny during the two days.

Diana was alone in her room at night when Mrs. Colwood knocked.  Would Diana give her some lavender-water?—­her headache was still severe.  Diana new to minister to her; but, once admitted, Muriel said no more of her headache.  Rather she began to soothe and caress Diana.  Was she in better spirits?  Let her only intrust the entertaining of Fanny Merton to her friend and companion—­Mrs. Colwood would see to it.  Diana laughed, and silenced her with a kiss.

Presently they were sitting by the fire, Muriel Colwood in a large arm-chair, a frail, fair creature, with her large dark-circled eyes, and her thin hands and arms; Diana kneeling beside her.

“I had no idea what a poison poverty could be!” said Muriel, abruptly, with her gaze on the fire.

“My cousin?” Diana looked up startled.  “Was that what she was saying to you?”

Muriel nodded assent.  Her look—­so anxious and tender—­held, enveloped her companion.

“Are they in debt?” said Diana, slowly.

“Terribly.  They seem to be going to break up their home.”

“Did she tell you all about it?”

Mrs. Colwood hesitated.

“A great deal more than I wanted to know!” she said, at last, as though the words broke from her.

Diana thought a little.

“I wonder—­whether that was—­what she came home for?”

Mrs. Colwood moved uneasily.

“I suppose if you are in those straits you don’t really think of anything else—­though you may wish to.”

“Did she tell you how much they want?” said Diana, quickly.

“She named a thousand pounds!”

Muriel might have been describing her own embarrassments, so scarlet had she become.

“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?”

“I am afraid—­she hopes it.”

“But I haven’t got it!” cried Diana, sitting down on the floor.  “I’ve spent more than I ought on this place; I’m overdrawn; I ought to be economical for a long time.  You know, Muriel, I’m not really rich.”