What a history!--Good heavens! Why had he not known and seen something of her in the days when she was still under the tyranny of that intolerable husband?
He might have eased the weight a little--protected her--as a kinsman may.
Ah well--better not! They were both younger then .-- As for the present,--let him only extricate himself from this coil in which he stood, find his way back to activity and his rightful place, and many things might look differently.

Perhaps--who could say ?--in the future, when youth was still further forgotten by both of them, he and Eleanor might after all take each other by the hand--sit down on either side of the same hearth--their present friendship pass into one of another kind?
It was quite possible, only-- The sudden crash of a glass door made him look round.

It was Miss Foster who was hastening along the enclosed passage leading to the outer stair.
She had miscalculated the strength of the wind on the north side of the house, and the glass door communicating with the library had slipped from her hand.

She passed Manisty with a rather scared penitent look, quickly opened the outer door, and ran downstairs.
Manisty watched her as she turned into the garden.

The shadows of the ilex-avenue chequered her straw bonnet, her prim black cape, her white skirt.