’Of course he has.  What man of literary judgment has not?  He is here still?’

‘Not at present.  They went a fortnight ago to Ullswater.’

‘To stay there till winter, I suppose?’

‘Or till late in autumn.’

Walter did not keep his seat, in spite of the fatigue he had spoken of.  In a minute or two he was moving about the room, glancing at a picture or an ornament.

‘That photograph is new, I think,’ he said.  ‘A Raphael?’

‘Andrea del Sarto.’

’Barbarian that I am!  I should have known Lucrezia’s face.  And your poor little girls?  I was grieved to hear of the death of Bunce’s child.  I always think of poor Bunce as a heavily-burdened man.’

’He came a month ago to see Bessie’s grave.  He talked to me in a very human way.  And things are better with him.  Pray sit down!  No, there is nothing else new in the room.’

He seemed to obey with reluctance; his eyes still strayed.  Mrs. Ormonde kept a subdued smile, and did her best to talk with ease of matters connected with his voyage, and the like.  Walter’s replies grew briefer.  He said at last: 

‘The two years come to an end to-morrow.’

‘They do.’

Mrs. Ormonde joined her hands upon her lap.  She avoided his look.

‘What have you to tell me of Thyrza?’ he went on to ask, his voice becoming grave.  ‘When did you see her?’

‘Quite recently.  She is well and very cheerful.’

‘Always so cheerful?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you will tell me now where she is?’

She looked him steadily in the face.

‘You wish to know, Walter?’

‘I have come to England to ask it.’

‘Yes, I will tell you.’

And she named the address.  Walter made a note of it in his pocket-book.

’And now will you also tell me fully about her life since I went away?  I should like to know with whom she has been living, exactly how she has spent her time——­’

‘Man of business!’

Mrs. Ormonde tried to jest, but did it nervously.

‘Do I seem to you coarser-grained than I used to be?’

’More a man of the world, at all events.  No, not fallen off in the way you mean.  But I think you judge more soberly about grave matters.  I think you know yourself better.’

‘Much better, if I am not mistaken.’

’But still can have la tete montee, on occasion?  Still think of many things in the idealist’s fashion?’

‘I sincerely hope so.  Of everything, I trust.’

‘Could make great sacrifices for an imaginary obligation?’

He left his seat again.  Mrs. Ormonde was agitated, and both kept silence for some moments.

‘It grieves me that you say that,’ Walter spoke at length, earnestly.  ’This obligation of mine is far from imaginary.  That is not very like yourself, Mrs. Ormonde.’

’I cannot speak so clearly as I should like to, Walter.  I, too, have my troublesome thoughts.’