Sylvia realized at once that her husband was setting out upon a campaign to win her family to his side.  He rode about the major’s plantations, absorbing information about the bollweevil.  He rode back to the house, and exchanged cigars, and listened to stories of the major’s boyhood during the war.  He went to call upon Bishop Chilton, and sat in his study, with its walls of faded black volumes on theology.  Van Tuiver himself had had a Church of England tutor, and was a punctilious high churchman; but he listened respectfully to arguments for a simpler form of church organization, and took away a voluminous exposé of the fallacies of “Apostolic Succession.”  And then came Aunt Nannie, ambitious and alert as when she had helped the young millionaire to find a wife; and the young millionaire made the suggestion that Aunt Nannie’s third daughter should not fail to visit Sylvia at Newport.

There was no limit, apparently, to what he would do.  He took Master Castleman Lysle upon his knee, and let him drop a valuable watch upon the floor.  He got up early in the morning and went horse-back riding with Peggy and Maria.  He took Celeste automobiling, and helped by his attentions to impress the cocksure young man with whom Celeste was in love.  He won “Miss Margaret” by these attentions to all her children, and the patience with which he listened to accounts of the ailments which had afflicted the precious ones at various periods of their lives.  To Sylvia, watching all these proceedings, it was as if he were binding himself to her with so many knots.

She had come home with a longing to be quiet, to avoid seeing anyone.  But this could not be, she discovered.  There was gossip about the child’s blindness, and the significance thereof; and to have gone into hiding would have meant an admission of the worst.  The ladies of the family had prepared a grand “reception,” at which all Castleman County was to come and gaze upon the happy mother.  And then there was the monthly dance at the Country Club, where everybody would come, in the hope of seeing the royal pair.  To Sylvia it was as if her mother and aunts were behind her every minute of the day, pushing her out into the world.  “Go on, go on!  Show yourself!  Do not let people begin to talk!”

13.  She bore it for a couple of weeks; then she went to her cousin, Harley Chilton.  “Harley,” she said, “my husband is anxious to go on a hunting-trip.  Will you go with him?”

“When?” asked the boy.

“Right away; to-morrow or the next day.”

“I’m game,” said Harley.

After which she went to her husband.  “Douglas, it is time for you to go.”

He sat studying her face.  “You still have that idea?” he said, at last.

“I still have it.”

“I was hoping that here, among your home-people, your sanity would partially return.”

“I know what you have been hoping, Douglas.  And I am sorry—­but I am quite unchanged.”