To better keep the Major’s secret, Mrs Shepherd had given up all friends, all acquaintance.  She had not known a woman-friend for years, and the affinities of sex drew her to accept the sympathy with which she was tempted.  The reaction of ten years of self-denial surged up within her, and she felt that she must speak, that her secret was being dragged from her.  Ethel’s eyes were fixed upon her—­in another moment she would have spoken, but at that moment Nellie appeared climbing up the steep bank.  ’Is that your little girl?  Oh, what a pretty child!’ Then raising her eyes from the child and looking the mother straight in the face, Ethel said—­

‘She is like, she is strangely like, Charles.’

Tears glistened in Mrs Shepherd’s eyes, and then, no longer doubting that Mrs Shepherd would break down and in a flow of tears tell the whole story of her life, Ethel allowed a note of triumph to creep into her voice, and before she could stop herself she said, ’And that little girl is the heiress of Appleton Park.’

Mrs Shepherd’s face changed expression.

‘You are mistaken, Miss Shepherd,’ she said; ’but if I ever meet your brother I will tell him that you think my little girl like him.’

Mrs Shepherd pursued her way slowly across the park, her long weary figure showing upon the sunset, her black dress trailing on the crisp grass.  Often she was obliged to pause; the emotion and exercise of the day had brought back pain, and her whole body thrilled with it.  Since the birth of her child she had lived in pain.  But as she leaned against the white gate, and looked back on the beautiful park never to be seen by her again, knowledge of her sacrifice quickened within her—­the house and the park, and the manner and speech of the young girl, combined to help her to a full appreciation of all she had surrendered.  She regretted nothing.  However mean and obscure her life had been, it had contained at least one noble moment.  Nellie pursued the dragonflies; Mrs Shepherd followed slowly, feeling like a victor in a great battle.  She had not broken her trust; she had kept her promise intact; she would return to London tomorrow or next day, or at the end of the week, whenever the Major wished.

He was waiting for them at the corner of the lane, and Nellie was already telling him all she thought of the house, the woods, the flowers, and the lady who had sat down by Mother on the bench above the river.  The Major looked at his wife in doubt and fear; her smile, however, reassured him.  Soon after, Nellie fell asleep, and while she dreamed of butterflies and flowers Mrs Shepherd told him what had passed between her and his sister in the beechwood above the river.

’You see, what I told you was right.  Your appearance has been described to them; they suspect something, and will never cease worrying until they have found out everything.  I’m not a bit surprised.  Ethel always was the more cunning and the more spiteful of the two.’