“Good lord, why?”

“Well, my dear, Stephen’s very like his father, and— and not a bit like Elizabeth.”

“Funny point of view. If I’m sorry for anyone I’m sorry for Stephen—tied to a pretty face.”

Mrs. Ramsay rescued her gloves from Thomas.

“So nice to sit opposite Elizabeth’s face every morning at breakfast,” she murmured.

“Are you being sarcastic, mater?”

“No, not at all. I mean it. The thing that bothers me is—Cynny, this is between you and me alone—I don’t—I can’t be sure that Elizabeth cares for Stephen —really cares for him.”

“Oh!” said Cynthia, and set her cup down with a click. “That’s it, is it? God help them both, then, for they won’t help themselves.”

“Cynny, I’m not sure—it’s only just a—a sort of feeling that I have, and I may be quite wrong!”

“Yes, I understand. What attracted her? Money, or fame?”

“Don’t, my dear! It—it sounds so crude and hateful. I’ve probably been misled by her manner. And then, of course, she’s shy. That aunt, too. I wish I could get near Elizabeth. I’d be such a lot of use to her. Only I can’t. She holds me off, she’s so—so proper. What a horrible word!”

Cynthia selected a cake with some deliberation.

“What about Stephen?”

Mrs. Ramsay did not answer for a moment. Then she looked across at Cynthia and spoke quite slowly, and with none of her usual sparkle.

“I believe what he wants me to believe. Everything is all right.”

“I see,” said Cynthia.

Chapter Fourteen

Queen’s Halt lay in a hollow beyond Cranbrook, with a giant elm for gate-keeper, and slim poplars as sentinels around.

Legend, or history, ascribed its name to the passing of Queen Bess, who was supposed to have rested there a night in the course of one of her pilgrimages. It was more probable that if the Queen had journeyed this way she would have chosen the Manor as her halt, a mile on, up the hill, but the Ribblemeres, who had lived there since the beginning of things, laid no claim to this distinction and showed no desire to wrest its title from the old white house below.

Queen’s Halt, gabled and beamed, with friendly windows, and squat chimneys, and swallows nesting under the eaves, stretched itself in the middle of its garden, which had grown and spread about it on many levels.

Before it the flower gardens lay, and the new tennis-court; on either side the orchards and the old pleasance, and behind, an uneven yard with moss padding between the flagstones and an aged pump keeping watch beside the rain-tub.