the flying threads of the web as her living Tony, whom she loved and prized and was ready to defend gainst the world.  By that time the fog had lifted; she saw the sky on the borders of milky cloudfolds.  Her invalid’s chill sensitiveness conceived a sympathy in the baring heavens, and lying on her sofa in the drawing-room she gained strength of meditative vision, weak though she was to help, through ceasing to brood on her wound and herself.  She cast herself into her dear Tony’s feelings; and thus it came, that she imagined Tony would visit The Crossways, where she kept souvenirs of her father, his cane, and his writing-desk, and a precious miniature of him hanging above it, before leaving England forever.  The fancy sprang to certainty; every speculation confirmed it.

Had Sir Lukin been at home she would have despatched him to The Crossways at once.  The West wind blew, and gave her a view of the Downs beyond the Weald from her southern window.  She thought it even possible to drive there and reach the place, on the chance of her vivid suggestion, some time after nightfall; but a walk across the room to try her forces was too convincing of her inability.  She walked with an ebony silver-mounted stick, a present from Mr. Redworth.  She was leaning on it when the card of Thomas Redworth was handed to her.

CHAPTER VIII

In which is exhibited how A practical man and A divining woman learn to respect one another

‘You see, you are my crutch,’ Lady Dunstane said to him,—­raising the stick in reminder of the present.

He offered his arm and hurriedly informed her, to dispose of dull personal matter, that he had just landed.  She looked at the clock.  ’Lukin is in town.  You know the song:  “Alas, I scarce can go or creep While Lukin is away.”  I do not doubt you have succeeded in your business over there.  Ah!  Now I suppose you have confidence in your success.  I should have predicted it, had you come to me.’  She stood, either musing or in weakness, and said abruptly:  ’Will you object to lunching at one o’clock?’

‘The sooner the better,’ said Redworth.  She had sighed:  her voice betrayed some agitation, strange in so serenely-minded a person.

His partial acquaintance with the Herculean Sir Lukin’s reputation in town inspired a fear of his being about to receive admission to the distressful confidences of the wife, and he asked if Mrs. Warwick was well.  The answer sounded ominous, with its accompaniment of evident pain:  ‘I think her health is good.’

Had they quarrelled?  He said he had not heard a word of Mrs. Warwick for several months.