And she did try that night and all the next day, thinking that if she could so make up her mind she would declare her purpose to Lady Ushant before she left Cheltenham.  But she could not do it, and in the struggle with herself at last she learned something of the truth.  Lady Ushant saw nothing but what was right and proper in a marriage with Lawrence Twentyman, but Reginald Morton had declared it to be improper, and therefore it was out of her reach.  She could not do it.  She could not bring herself, after what he had said, to look him in the face and tell him that she was going to become the wife of Larry Twentyman.  Then she asked herself the fatal question;—­was she in love with Reginald Morton?  I do not think that she answered it in the affirmative, but she became more and more sure that she could never marry Larry Twentyman.

Lady Ushant declared herself to have been more than satisfied with the visit and expressed a hope that it might be repeated in the next year.  “I would ask you to come and make your home here while I have a home to offer you, only that you would be so much more buried here than at Dillsborough:  And you have duties there which perhaps you ought not to leave.  But come again when your papa will spare you.”

On her journey back she certainly was not very happy.  There were yet three weeks wanting to the time at which she would be bound to give her answer to Larry Twentyman; but why should she keep the man waiting for three weeks when her answer was ready?  Her stepmother she knew would soon force her answer from her, and her father would be anxious to know what had been the result of her meditations.  The real period of her reprieve had been that of her absence at Cheltenham, and that period was now come to an, end.  At each station as she passed them she remembered what Reginald Morton had been saying to her, and how their conversation had been interrupted,—­and perhaps occasionally aided,—­by the absurdities of the bird.  How sweet it had been to be near him and to listen to his whispered voice!  How great was the difference between him and that other young man, the smartness of whose apparel was now becoming peculiarly distasteful to her!  Certainly it would have been better for her not to have gone to Cheltenham if it was to be her fate to become Mrs. Twentyman.  She was quite sure of that now.

She came up from the Dillsborough Station alone in the Bush omnibus.  She had not expected any one to meet her.  Why should any one meet her?  The porter put up her box and the omnibus left her at the door.  But she remembered well how she had gone down with Reginald Morton, and how delightful had been every little incident of the journey.  Even to walk with him up and down the platform while waiting for the train had been a privilege.  She thought of it as she got out of the carriage and remembered that she had felt that the train had come too soon.