CHAPTER XVI.
IN WHICH THE MIRROR IS HELD UP TO HUMAN NATURE When, the next day, Nancy went to pay her promised visit to Mrs.
Eversley, the rectory was steeped in the deep household peace of mid-afternoon.

Both Allan and Bernal had gone out soon after luncheon, while Aunt Bell had withdrawn into the silence, there to meditate the first letters of the alphabet of the inexpressible, to hover about the pleasant line that divides the normal from the subliminal.
Though bruised and torn, Nancy was still grimly upright in the eye of duty, still a worthy follower of orthodox ways.

Buried in her own eventful thoughts in that mind-world where love is born and dies, where beliefs rise and perish but no sound ever disturbs the stillness, she made her way along the shaded side of the street toward the Wyeth residence.

Not until she had passed several doors beyond the house did she recall her errand, remember that her walk led to a goal, that she herself had matters in hand other than thinking, thinking, thinking.
Retracing her steps, she rang the bell and asked for Mrs.Eversley.
Before the servant could reply, Mrs.Wyeth rustled prettily down the hall from the library at the back.

She wore a gown of primrose yellow.
An unwonted animation lighted the cold perfection of her face, like fire seen through ice.
"_So_ glad to see you!" she said with graceful effusion--"And the Doctor?
And that queer, fascinating, puzzling brother of yours, how are they?
So glad! Yes, poor sister keeps to her room and you really mustn't linger with me an instant.