Mrs. Welman said softly, "They're good children - very good children. And fond of me, both of them. I always know I've only got to send and they'll come at any time. But I don't want to do that too often. They're young and happy - the world in front of them. No need to bring them near decay and suffering before their time."

Mary said, "I'm sure they'd never feel like that, Mrs. Welman." Mrs. Welman went on, talking perhaps more to herself than to the girl: "I always hoped they might marry. But I tried never to suggest anything of the kind. Young people are so contradictory. It would have put them off! I had an idea, long ago, when they were children, that Elinor had set her heart on Roddy. But I wasn't at all sure about him. He's a funny creature. Henry was like that - very reserved and fastidious.... Yes, Henry...." She was silent for a little, thinking of her dead husband. She murmured, "So long ago - so very long ago.... We had only been married five years when he died. Double pneumonia... We were happy - yes, very happy; but somehow it all seems very unreal, that happiness. I was an odd, solemn, undeveloped girl - my head full of ideals and heroworship. No reality." 20

Mary murmured, "You must have been very lonely - afterward."

"After? Oh, yes - terribly lonely. I was twenty-six - and now I'm over sixty. A long time, my dear - a long, long time."

She said with sudden brisk acerbity, "And now this!"

"Your illness?"

"Yes. A stroke is the thing I've always dreaded. The indignity of it all!

Washed and tended like a baby! Helpless to do anything for myself. It maddens me. The O'Brien creature is good-natured - I will say that for her. She doesn't mind my snapping at her and she's not more idiotic than most of them. But it makes a lot of difference to me to have you about, Mary."

"Does it?" The girl flushed. "I - I'm so glad, Mrs. Welman." Laura Welman said shrewdly, "You've been worrying, haven't you? About the future. You leave it to me, my dear. I'll see to it that you shall have the means to be independent and take up a profession. But be patient for a little - it means too much to me to have you here."

"Oh, Mrs. Welman, of course - of course! I wouldn't leave you for the world. Not if you want me -"

"I do want you." The voice was unusually deep and full. "You're - you're quite like a daughter to me, Mary. I've seen you grow up here at Hunterbury from a little toddling thing - have seen you grow into a beautiful girl. I'm proud of you, child. I only hope I've done what was best for you."